


For Old Time's Sake

by geri_chan



Series: Always [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 07:30:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 39,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3111305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geri_chan/pseuds/geri_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A retelling of Goblet of Fire, in which Snape is asked to help out the son of an old friend. The story contains some original characters: Dylan Rosier and the Donner family, who are very loosely based on characters from Welsh legends in The Mabinogion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Ink Stained Fingers on 09/11/03.

Snape returned from his Japanese vacation feeling relaxed and refreshed. He felt quite satisfied about having improved the Wolfsbane Potion, and he still had a few weeks to prepare for the coming school year and spend some time with Lupin. He had enjoyed their stay with the Kamiyama family, but he was happy to have some time alone with Lupin. It was nice to be able to wake up next to Lupin in the morning, to share meals with him, to be able to kiss or touch him anytime he wanted without worrying that someone might be watching, and there was no need for silence spells! Lupin's cottage was located more-or-less in the middle of nowhere, and they could make as much noise as they pleased.

He was a little sad, though, that their time together would soon be over. He cursed himself for what was probably the thousandth time for losing his temper and exposing Lupin as a werewolf, causing him to lose his job. He sighed as he looked down at the lesson plan he was preparing for his fourth-year classes. 

"What's wrong, Severus?" Lupin asked, as he kissed Snape's cheek and set a cup of tea down on the table. 

Snape smiled, cheered slightly. He rather liked it when Lupin acted domestic, although he would never admit it out loud, of course. It reminded him of the little fantasies they'd spun about living together back when they were teenagers. "Oh, nothing," he said. "I'm just not looking forward to leaving you and dealing with all the brats again."

Lupin pulled up a chair beside him and grinned. "I know you'll miss me, Severus, but I also know you love teaching, however much you complain about it."

Snape gave him a sour look, but talk about school reminded him of something he had wanted to discuss with Lupin, but had forgotten about when he had gotten wrapped up in working on the Wolfsbane Potion and enjoying his holiday with Lupin. "I need your advice, Lupin. I don't know what to do about Draco Malfoy."

Lupin raised an eyebrow. "He could use a good dressing-down and several weeks in detention, but you usually don't need my help in disciplining your students, Severus."

Snape sighed. "I can't punish him too much without offending his father, and for the sake of my cover, I need Lucius to think I'm still under his thumb. But that's not really what I meant. Draco is set to follow in his father's footsteps; I want to stop him from becoming a Death Eater, but I don't know if that's even possible. He might be too far down that road already."

"He's an unpleasant child, Severus, but he is still a child, after all. Many people thought you were on the road to becoming a Dark Wizard when we were in school, but you did find your way back, eventually. If you reach out to him--"

"The problem is not that he's a child, but that he's Lucius Malfoy's child," Snape interrupted. "He's a brat, but he's still soft; Lucius has allowed Narcissa to indulge him too much. I think I might be able to save him, but I don't know how to do it without making Lucius suspicious."

"Ah, I see," Lupin said, understanding Snape's dilemma. He smiled gently at his lover. "Most people wouldn't even try to save such an unpleasant child."

"I was an unpleasant child, too," Snape said gruffly.

Lupin kissed him on the cheek again. "But you did have your redeeming qualities, though not many people noticed them." Lupin had noticed very little that was redeeming about Draco, but he agreed that it would be wrong to simply give up on him. Lupin said in a more serious tone, "It still bothers you, doesn't it? Those Death Eater friends of yours who died...Rosier and Wilkes."

"They weren't really my friends," Snape said. "Not like Potter and Black were your friends. More associates and allies, really. But still..." He sighed unhappily. "I suppose they were the closest thing to friends I had, after I lost you. Wilkes was a decent sort, not your typical Slytherin. He wasn't smart enough for Ravenclaw, but he would have done all right in Hufflepuff, maybe even Gryffindor. I don't know why the Hat put him in our House; perhaps because his family were all Slytherins, or maybe because he let people talk him into doing things without stopping to think about right or wrong. It was Rosier's fault that he became a Death Eater, you know. He looked up to Evan; if Evan said becoming a Death Eater was a good idea, then Lyall believed him. As for Evan...he had a sadistic streak; he liked hunting Muggles and Muggle-born for Voldemort, but I identified with him, somehow. Because like me, he carried on a secret affair with someone from another House." Snape smiled bitterly. 

"Ariane Donner," Lupin murmured.

"Yes. It was for her sake, that he joined the Death Eaters. When her family threatened to separate them, Malfoy told him that the Dark Lord would give him enough power 'to win his lady fair'." Snape grimaced. "Fool. But then, I was just as foolish, I suppose."

"Why did you join, Severus?" Lupin asked quietly. It was a question he had always wondered about but had never asked, because he feared hearing the answer. He had long suspected it was his fault Severus had gone over to Voldemort.

"I was angry," Snape admitted, looking shamefaced. "Lucius didn't really know why, but he could see how much I hated Potter and Black. He offered me revenge, and that combined with the lure of learning the Dark Arts that had always been prohibited at Hogwarts was too much for me to resist. I had associated with Malfoy's group since my first year, but something always held me back from getting too close to them. I'm not exactly sure what." But he knew that was a lie. "No, I know what it was--I didn't want to disappoint Dumbledore. And I didn't trust Malfoy; I didn't want to give him too much power over me. And..." He hesitated. "And you would never have associated with the likes of Lucius, and part of me secretly hoped you and I might become friends one day, even though I knew it was impossible."

"Oh, Severus..." Lupin whispered sadly.

"And then, after we broke up, I no longer cared what anyone thought of me. The Dark Lord offered me power, and I resolved to become powerful enough that I would never need to rely on anyone again. Not you, not Dumbledore, not my parents." Snape sighed wearily. "But it was a lie, of course. Whatever trappings of power he gave us, we were in reality his slaves."

"Severus," Lupin whispered again, his eyes filled with guilt and sorrow. "If only I'd--"

Snape reached out and gently stroked his cheek. "Don't blame yourself, Remus. It's not your fault. I was the one who made the decision, not you. I knew the first time I let Malfoy take me to one of their secret meetings that I was making a mistake, but I was too proud to admit it. And I was too proud to trust you, to listen to your apologies. It was only when I saw my first execution, on the night the Dark Lord put his Mark on me, that I came to my senses and realized what I had done. I went to Dumbledore the very next day and became his spy."

Lupin trembled slightly. This was the first time he had heard the full story of how Severus had joined the Death Eaters. "I would have saved you if I could," he whispered. "After I found out, I could never quite forgive Sirius for breaking us up, because I thought I could have saved you."

"You ARE my salvation, Remus," Snape whispered, reaching out and pulling him close. They held each other in silence for a long time. Finally Snape's grip loosened, and he pulled away from Lupin a little. "As you said, eventually I found my way back. But Evan and Lyall never did. Evan was even more stubborn than I, but I always thought I might have been able to talk some sense into Lyall. But if I had done that, word would have gotten back to Evan, and in turn to Voldemort. So I did nothing, and they both died."

"You're not responsible for that, Severus."

"I could have saved Lyall Wilkes," Snape said, as if he hadn't heard Lupin. "But it would have destroyed my cover and put my life at risk. I didn't really care much about dying," Snape said in such a hollow, indifferent voice that it sent chills down Lupin's spine, "but if I died, or even if I were simply cast out of the Death Eaters, there would be no one to feed information to Dumbledore, and more innocents would have been killed. So tell me, Lupin, was it a moral choice to let one man die in order to save the lives of many? But those many were mostly strangers to me, so should I have sacrificed them in order to save someone who was my friend?"

"You did what you had to do, Severus," Lupin said firmly, compassionately. "Don't torture yourself over it. You saved countless lives. And Rosier and Wilkes--I'm truly sorry for their deaths, Severus, but they had the same choices available to them as you did, and they chose to remain with Voldemort. And..." Lupin hesitated. "This will sound selfish, but I'm glad you didn't risk your life to save Wilkes. I love you, Severus; I couldn't bear to lose you. If you had died, a part of me would have died as well. As horrible as it sounds, I would trade his life, trade a hundred lives, for yours."

Snape gently kissed him on the forehead. "My noble little Gryffindor werewolf," he murmured. "You shock me." His lips curved in a very faint smile, although his eyes were still serious. "As horrible as it sounds, it makes me happy to hear that."

"You want to save Draco because you couldn't save Lyall," Lupin said softly.

"Yes," sighed Snape. "As foolish as that sounds, I do. And attempting to save Draco will be even more dangerous than trying to save Wilkes would have been."

"I think you can do it," Lupin said thoughtfully. "But you must be subtle."

"Subtle will probably fly right over his pointy little head," Snape said, sounding more like his usual cranky self. Lupin smiled to hear it.

"Try to get Draco and the other Slytherins to think for themselves, Severus. You don't have to hit them over the head with lectures about the evils of the Dark Arts, but try and get them to question their world view just a little. And try to be a friend to them."

Snape groaned. "I don't know how to befriend children! You're the one who's good at that!"

"Well, I won't be there, Severus," Lupin pointed out. "So you'll have to do it, if you want to save them. Besides, Draco Malfoy is much more likely to listen to what you have to say than to some impoverished Gryffindor werewolf."

Snape couldn't argue with that, and anyway, it was his own fault that Lupin wouldn't be there to minister to the brats.

Lupin took pity on Snape, seeing how worried and haunted his eyes were. He pushed aside Snape's lesson plans and took him by the hand, pulling him to his feet. "Come," he said firmly.

"Where are we going?" Snape asked, a little startled.

"To bed," Lupin replied. "The wolf is...hungry."

Snape began to smile, despite his worries. "It's still a couple of weeks till the full moon."

"The wolf likes making love more than one week per month, Severus," Lupin said dryly. "But if you're not in the mood..."

"Well, this could be a possible side effect of the new potion," Snape said hastily. "It would be irresponsible not to conduct further research. For the sake of science. And of course it's my duty to, ah, provide therapeutic treatment in order to keep the wolf at bay." 

_It will be therapeutic for both of us, my love,_ Lupin thought, but he just smiled and led Snape to the bedroom.

*** 

"This just came for you by owl, Severus," said Lupin a week later, handing Snape a letter.

Startled, Snape accepted the envelope, which was stamped with the Hogwarts seal. Inside was another envelope and a brief note from Dumbledore which read: "I'm sorry to interrupt your vacation, Severus, but I thought it was important to forward this to you right away. Please contact me after you read it." He read the return address on the second letter, and was surprised to see that it was from Ariane Donner. He had not seen or spoken to her in thirteen years, since her trial and acquittal. He tore open the envelope and read:

 

"Dear Severus,

I imagine you realize I have not written to you just to inquire about your health or chat about old times, so I will dispense with formalities. I have always been a proud woman, but I am begging you now for your help. As I believe you know, I have been unofficially exiled by my family to our estate in Wales. I have accepted my fate; it is the price I must pay for my foolishness and Evan's. Evan, as much as I loved him, was too proud--he should have been practical like you and Lucius, and done whatever was necessary to save his life. I hold no grudge against you for saving yourself; I remember that you testified on my behalf at my trial. But I will not stand by and see my son condemned to share my imprisonment. He was not yet born when the Dark Lord fell, and he should not be punished for whatever crimes his parents may have committed. I have been teaching him wizardry, and my uncle Mathias and his wife Goewin have taken pity on Dylan and been tutoring him as well. But I wish for my son to have a proper education; I want him to be schooled at Hogwarts, as have all the Rosiers and Donners that have come before him. My uncle, as you may remember, is a mage of no small power, perhaps second only to Dumbledore, so I do not think you will find Dylan's education lacking: he is skilled in all the spells a wizard of his age should know; he has also been tutored in history and mathematics, and is able to converse fluently in four different languages. I am sure he can easily catch up to his yearmates if he enters Hogwarts. But my mother and brothers, who hated his father, strongly oppose this, preferring to leave him to rot here in exile with me. But I will not allow this--my son shall claim the place that is rightfully his! Fortunately, Mathias and Goewin are fond of Dylan, and have agreed to back me up, but we have been informed that 'it is most unprecedented' to have a child enter Hogwarts so late. Of course it is my mother's fault that he was not allowed to enter in his first year as he should have, and I suspect she is trying to influence the school governors to keep him out, although my uncle is now trying to counter that.

So what I am asking of you, Severus, is that you use your influence to persuade your Headmaster to admit Dylan. You are a respected member of the staff, and I have heard that Albus Dumbledore is a firm believer in second chances. And since this is actually Dylan's first chance, I hope he will be sympathetic. I beg of you, for the sake of the friendship you and Evan shared, please help our son! 

And finally, I suspect if Dylan is admitted, he will be sorted into Slytherin House, and if that is so, as Head of Slytherin, I ask you to look after my son while he is at Hogwarts. I know I am asking a great deal of you, but you will have my eternal gratitude, and more importantly, my uncle's as well--and he is a very influential wizard. You may be sure that if ever you need a favor in return, we will not forget the debt we owe you.

Sincerely,  
Ariane Donner"

 

Snape groaned and rubbed his temples, fighting off a headache. Just what he needed! As if trying to keep Potter alive wasn't bad enough, as if he didn't have enough on his plate worrying over whether he could keep Draco Malfoy from going over to Voldemort like his father, he now had yet another brat to worry about! "I'm a wizard, dammit, not a baby-sitter!" he shouted. "Why don't I just post a sign on the dungeon door that says 'Nursery'?!"

"What's wrong, Severus?" Lupin asked, looking concerned. In reply, Snape just handed him the letter. Lupin read it and said, "I see...so what are you going to do?"

"'For the sake of the friendship you and Evan shared'--as if we were actually friends!" Snape grumbled. "And if the child is anything like his father, he's probably a little Death Eater in waiting. Another little lamb who will walk right up to the altar of his own free will and offer himself up to Voldemort! And what the hell are you smirking about?!"

Lupin was smiling gently at his lover. "You're only complaining because you already know what you intend do; you will do what you can to help the boy, whether because of or in spite of, who his father was." He kissed Snape on the cheek, and began massaging his shoulders. "Because you are a man of honor." _And because, despite all your Slytherin bluster, you're a soft touch, Severus Snape,_ Lupin added silently. _You protect Harry even though you claim to hate him, you worry about Draco even though his father was the one that led you into Voldemort's service, and I know you're only mean to Hermione because you don't want anyone to see how proud you are of a Gryffindor student. You're even concerned about Neville Longbottom, in your own way; you terrorize him because you want to toughen him up, although I don't think your methods are very effective._ Fortunately, since Lupin was standing behind Snape, the Potions Master could not see the werewolf's amused smile. _Sirius thinks you're such a fiend; if only he could see what a marshmallow you really are!_ But he would hurt his lover's pride if he said any of this aloud, so all Lupin said was, "I love you, Severus," as he kissed Snape's cheek again.

"Hmmph," Snape grunted, relaxing as the tension drained out of his body, thanks to his lover's skilled touch. "How did you get so good at this, Lupin?"

"Practice, Severus," Lupin replied, a hint of laughter in his voice.

Snape turned around briefly to give him a suspicious look. "Well, you had better not 'practice' on anyone but me from now on, understand?" he said, in the same voice he used to intimidate the most unruly of his students.

"Yes, love," said Lupin meekly, his blue eyes the very picture of innocence and obedience, and kissed Snape lightly on the lips. 

Snape snorted; Lupin was about as meek as the wolf whose form he took every month, but he let the remark pass unchallenged. "And by the way, Lupin...?"

"Yes, Severus?"

Snape blushed and mumbled, "I love you, too."

Lupin's hands drifted from Snape's shoulders down across his chest as he nuzzled the nape of his lover's neck, and Snape gasped with pleasure. "Perhaps we could go to the bedroom and...practice...in more depth?" Lupin murmured.

"That time of the month, is it?" Snape said with a grin. Meekness had its place, but so did the feral hunger of the wolf. 

Lupin grinned, unabashed, exposing his sharp canines, and his pale blue eyes had a slightly wild look in them that made Snape shiver with anticipation. "Yes, Severus, and you know how I get when the full moon is close..." He gently nipped at Snape's neck.

Snape felt his blood heat, but forced himself to remain calm. He lifted one of Lupin's hands to his mouth and kissed each fingertip, one at a time: "Well..." Kiss. "Since it is part of your treatment..." Another kiss. "I suppose..." Kiss. "I should indulge you." He kissed the last fingertip. "Just to protect people from such a dangerous beast." Never mind that the nearest village was several miles away... He planted a final kiss in the center of Lupin's palm, allowing his tongue to dart out from between his lips, and was rewarded with the sound of a low groan.

"Bedroom," Lupin growled. "Now!"

"I love it when you go feral on me, Lupin," Snape purred, but Lupin just growled again and silenced him with a fierce kiss. Snape allowed his lover to drag him into the bedroom, the letter and the children of Death Eaters temporarily forgotten.

*** 

"Dear Ariane,

I was most surprised to receive your letter, but I will do what I can for your son, for the sake of my old classmates, and in the name of fairness. Many who have committed worse crimes than being born the son of a Death Eater were given second chances, so I see no reason why your son should not be given the same consideration. The Headmaster is, as you said, a firm believer in second chances; some would even call him softhearted. Therefore, I believe he will sympathetic to Dylan's plight. A special hearing has been called to discuss the matter, at which I will speak on your son's behalf. 

If Dylan is sorted into Slytherin, I will of course look after his education and well-being, as I would any student of my House.

Sincerely,  
Severus Snape"

 

Ariane laughed as she finished reading the letter. "As snotty and priggish as ever, Severus," she murmured, more to herself than to the dark-haired boy anxiously hovering over her. But she felt quite pleased; Snape had come through as she had hoped he would. As much as he had tried to disguise it, Snape had always possessed a conscience and a sense of honor, rather unusual qualities for a Slytherin. Severus had always been an odd one...he and Evan had been friends--or least had shared membership in Malfoy's gang--since their first year, but for some reason had grown closer after she and Evan began seeing each other. There were even times when he had covered up for Evan before Malfoy had condescended to grant his approval to their relationship. Severus had always treated her with a strange mixture of sympathy and resentment...she idly wondered if it had something to do with the pack of Gryffindor boys he used to follow around. Ariane knew as well as anyone how the heat of anger could turn into quite a different kind of heat altogether...she smiled at the memory of how she and Evan had been arguing over who deserved the credit for their successful school project one moment, and kissing passionately the next. Could Severus have suffered from unrequited love for one of the Gryffindor boys? He did have quite a fierce rivalry with James Potter...or perhaps it was shy little Remus Lupin he had fancied; she seemed to recall that he had been obsessed with Lupin's frequent illnesses and absences. And come to think of it...gossip had it that Lupin had been teaching at Hogwarts recently, but was forced to resign after Snape had revealed he was a werewolf... Ariane mentally filed away that information; one never knew when such things might turn out to be useful--

"Mother!" Dylan exclaimed impatiently, interrupting her thoughts. "What does it say? Is he going to help us?"

Ariane smiled fondly at her son. He was a very handsome boy; his hair was coal-black like his father's, but long and straight like hers instead of curly like Evan's. He also had her gray eyes, but his father's full, sensual lips. He was beautiful, maybe even more beautiful than his father had been, and she didn't think that motherly love had clouded her judgment. Everyone who met him said he was a handsome, charming, intelligent lad--except, of course, for her mother and brothers. She stroked his cheek and said, "I'm sure you will break a great many hearts when you go to Hogwarts, my son."

His eyes lit up. "Really? I'm going to Hogwarts?" He grabbed the letter and read it, and his enthusiasm dimmed slightly. "This just says he'll speak on my behalf, not that it's certain I'll get in."

Ariane laughed. "You must learn to read between the lines, my son. Severus Snape never promises anything he doesn't think he can deliver."

"Do you really know him so well, Mother? After all, you haven't seen him in thirteen years."

Ariane made a dismissive gesture with her hand. "People rarely change much over the years, Dylan. And judging by the gossip I've heard and this letter, Severus is still as I remember him. Albus Dumbledore has always been a bit of a soft touch, and with Severus on your side as well, your admission is all but ensured." Dylan still seemed somewhat skeptical, and she continued, "After all, he gave that idiot Hagrid a job after he supposedly opened the Chamber of Secrets and got a student killed, and he forgave Severus as well."

"But I thought your friend Professor Snape never stood trial--"

"That's correct, but Dumbledore isn't stupid; he must have known Severus was a Death Eater. Of course, Snape was always a practical man--I'm sure he must have changed sides after the Dark Lord fell."

"He saved himself, when my father died for their cause--" Dylan said heatedly, but Ariane cut him off sharply.

"If your father had been more practical, he would be alive and here with us today!" Then her expression softened, and she pulled her son close and planted a gentle kiss on his forehead. "It is not cowardly, but practical, to surrender in the face of insurmountable odds, and bide your time till another opportunity comes along. 'He who fights and runs away, lives to fight another day,' as the saying goes."

"I suppose," Dylan mumbled.

"I am grateful to Severus," said Ariane. "He was the only one of your father's friends who spoke on my behalf. He testified that he never saw me with Voldemort, or at any of the Death Eaters' meetings." Her lovely face contorted in an ugly sneer as she said contemptuously, "Evan's dear friend Lucius Malfoy didn't lift one finger to help me, when it was he who talked Evan and the others into joining the Dark Lord in the first place. No, he claimed the devil made him do it, and returned to a life of luxury while you and I have languished in exile."

Dylan bowed his head. "Then I will be grateful to Professor Snape for your sake, Mother, and for mine, if he can help me get into Hogwarts."

Ariane smiled and caressed his cheek again. "Treat him with respect, Dylan. He can be a powerful ally--or a dangerous enemy. Trust him, but not too far; he is a man of honor, but his main concern is for his own safety and ambition. He is not overly sentimental, and will not go out on a limb for you just because your father was an old schoolmate. As for Lucius Malfoy--you must never let him see how much we hate him. He is a very powerful man, and much more dangerous than Snape. His son Draco is in Slytherin, a year ahead of you. It would behoove you to try and befriend him if you are sorted into that House, but don't trust him any farther than you can throw him."

"Yes, Mother," Dylan murmured obediently, and listened attentively as his mother described the various teachers and students he would meet at Hogwarts, and how he should deal with them.

"And one last thing," Ariane said as she wrapped up her lecture, taking a quick look around as if to make sure no one could overhear them. "You must never reveal to anyone the...special...spells I have taught you. Not to Professor Snape, certainly not to Malfoy, and not to any of your friends, even those you think you can trust. I don't ever want to hear that you've been using them as parlor tricks to show off to the other students, do you understand me, Dylan? Such things can get you expelled, and you are essentially going into Hogwarts on probation as it is."

"I understand, Mother. But what was the point of learning those spells in the first place, if I can never use them?"

"Patience, my son. Timing is everything; we must wait for the proper moment. Besides, no knowledge is ever wasted..."

*** 

Snape and the other staff members took seats in the conference room, facing the Headmaster and the school governors, who were seated at a long table at the head of the room. He felt oddly like a student in class once again...no, more like a student sitting in the Headmaster's office waiting to be punished.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and said, "As you are all aware, the purpose of this meeting is to discuss whether or not we should admit Dylan Rosier to Hogwarts as a third-year student this coming term."

"I am firmly against it," said one of the governors. "His father was a Death Eater, and probably his mother as well."

"Here now!" said Flitwick indignantly. "Ariane was always a headstrong girl, but that doesn't mean she was a Dark Wizard! She was found innocent of all charges."

"She was found 'not guilty'," corrected the governor. "There is a difference between the two terms; just because no evidence could be found against her doesn't mean that she was innocent." There were murmurs of agreement in the room among some of the other governors and staff members.

Snape stood up. "Whatever Ariane Donner did or did not do is irrelevant. Dylan Rosier was not yet born when Vol--"

A loud commotion arose: a number of frightened squeals and exclamations of dismay. Snape paused, rolled his eyes, then continued, "Dylan was not yet born when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named fell. Thus, he can hardly be a Death Eater."

"Bad blood," muttered Hagrid balefully. "Likely he'll turn out the same as his father."

"I'm surprised at you, Hagrid," Snape said pointedly. "I thought you agreed with the Headmaster's policy of second chances."

The Gamekeeper flushed and glared at Snape. But Dumbledore gently said, "I agree with Severus, Hagrid. I think it is important to set aside our prejudices, and judge each person fairly as an individual."

Hagrid looked shamefaced, and mumbled, "Yes, Headmaster," staring down at his feet. A few of the governors and the other teachers also looked embarrassed, but others still looked skeptical.

"High principles are all well and good," said the first governor, "but the fact remains that Evan Rosier was a Death Eater--"

"If we ban all the children of those who once supported Vol--ahem, the Dark Lord, then you would have to expel half the students at Hogwarts," Snape said in a caustic tone.

"Speak for yourself, Snape!" Professor Sprout said sharply. "No one from Hufflepuff was ever convicted as a Death Eater!"

"Half the students, hah!" said Hagrid. "More like all of Slytherin!"

"Enough!" said the Headmaster impatiently. "This petty sniping is getting us nowhere!" The arguments subsided, but Sprout still looked indignant. "However, Severus does have a point. Many who were...misled...by Voldemort--" He ignored the alarmed protests that arose. "--were granted second chances. Can we show any less mercy to one whose only crime was to be born to the wrong parents?"

"The child should be granted the same chance as any other," said Madam Pomfrey quietly. "If he has committed no crime, then he should be allowed to attend Hogwarts, as is his right."

There arose another murmur in the room, this time one that sounded more sympathetic. "But it is most unusual," protested another governor, "to admit a child as a third-year--"

"If you had admitted him as a first-year, we would not be having this problem now," Snape pointed out impatiently.

"Well, but--" protested the governor.

"Perhaps he should be admitted as a first-year, then?" a third governor suggested.

"I have been assured by his great-uncle, Mathias Donner, that Dylan's knowledge is on par with that of other children his age," said Dumbledore. "Old Math has personally seen to the boy's education."

There were more murmurs of approval; Mathias Donner was a very wise and respected wizard. The first governor said sourly, "If his education is on par with Hogwarts, then I don't see why the child can't continue to be tutored at home."

"Do you intend to keep him in exile for the rest of his life?" Snape asked in an equally acid tone. "What happens when he becomes an adult and wants to leave the family estate? Will you keep him chained up? Throw him in Azkaban?"

"Dylan Rosier has committed no crime," Dumbledore said gravely. "As yet. But if he grows up in exile through no fault of his own, will he not come to resent us? You may create the very problem you fear, and turn the boy into a Dark Wizard by driving him away from those who would teach him wisdom and compassion. You fear his mother's influence may have corrupted him? Well then, let him come and spend some time away from his mother, here among wizards of different families and Houses. You fear he will become a Death Eater? Then let us teach him a better way, and ensure that does not happen."

 

There was some grumbling, but Dumbledore's speech appeared to have turned the tide; the staff threw their support behind him--although a few did so reluctantly--and the governors voted 8-4 to admit Dylan Rosier. After the governors had left, McGonagall said hesitantly, "I agree that the boy should not be condemned simply because of his parentage, but are you really sure this is a wise decision, Albus? Considering who the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is...?"

"What do you mean?" asked Snape sharply. "Who is the new teacher?"

"Ah, that's right; you have not yet heard, Severus, since you have been away," said Dumbledore. "The new DADA teacher is Alastor Moody."

"WHAT?!" exclaimed Snape. "Mad-Eye Moody?!"

"Yeh got only yerself to blame, Snape," Hagrid said, a look of dark satisfaction on his face. "Seeing as how it's yer fault Professor Lupin's gone."

Snape glowered at Hagrid for a moment, then turned back to Dumbledore. "But Moody killed Dylan Rosier's father!"

"I hired Alastor before Ariane submitted Dylan's application," the Headmaster said. "I admit that makes for an awkward situation--"

"I'd say that's something of an understatement, Headmaster!"

"--But no one knows more about fighting the Dark Arts than Moody," Dumbledore continued. "He can teach the children what they need to know to defend themselves--and I fear they will need that knowledge before long, Severus."

"But Moody?" wailed Snape. "The man is paranoid! He's likely to kill the students if they look at him the wrong way!" And besides Moody had always hated Snape, and never really believed that he had switched sides; he was just itching for an opportunity to kill Snape or send him to Azkaban. The loathing was mutual on both sides.

"Alastor is a bit nervous, with good reason," said Dumbledore. His expression was grave, but there was a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "But I'm sure he will do nothing to endanger the students."

"Maybe the other students will be safe from him," Snape said dubiously. "But what about Dylan? Moody still holds a grudge against his father." Because Evan Rosier had not gone down without a fight; he had taken part of Moody along with him, including a large chunk of his nose...

"I will speak to Alastor about Dylan," said Dumbledore, "and make sure that he...keeps his temper under control. I'll make it clear that he is to treat Dylan no differently than any other student." Snape snorted, but made no other protest. "And I will assign you the task of warning Ariane and Dylan who the new teacher is; it will be difficult, and the boy should have time to prepare himself. He will need guidance, and I hope you will look after Dylan and provide a sympathetic ear if he needs one."

A "why me?" expression appeared on Snape's face, and he mumbled something about how he was a Potions Master, not a baby-sitter. But the Headmaster looked at him expectantly, and he sighed, "Oh, very well!" in a rather disgruntled tone. 

Dumbledore smiled and patted him on the shoulder, saying, "Thank you. I knew I could count on you, Severus." That brief gesture of affection awoke conflicting emotions in Snape; resentment in the former Death Eater-turned-Professor who felt underappreciated and put-upon, and a brief surge of happiness in the small part of him who was still a schoolboy craving the Headmaster's approval. He gave the Headmaster a curt nod and left the room.

 

Snape intended to leave the school grounds and Apparate back to Lupin's cottage. However, before he could make it out of the castle, he was intercepted by an owl bearing a message from Lucius Malfoy. It read: "Meet me at The Three Broomsticks. Lucius." Snape groaned, and set off for Hogsmeade, his mood growing blacker by the minute.

 

He found Lucius Malfoy seated at a booth in the corner, nursing a glass of wine. Snape ordered a tankard of butterbeer but didn't touch it. "What do you want, Lucius?" he asked abruptly.

"Is that any way to greet an old friend, Sev?" Malfoy replied.

"Don't call me 'Sev'," Snape growled automatically.

"I beg your pardon, Severus," said Malfoy with a smile. He knew how much Snape hated that old nickname, of course, but used it on occasion just to remind the other man who was in charge. "I simply wanted to discuss my concerns as a parent," he continued in a silky voice. "Have you heard who the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is?"

"Yes, I just found out," Snape said with a scowl. "It's Moody."

"Who would've thought Dumbledore would put an Auror on the staff?"

"Perhaps it's because Sirius Black is still running loose," said Snape, looking more surly and sullen with each passing second.

"I hate to say it," sighed Malfoy. "But perhaps we would have been better off with the werewolf."

"Now you tell me," muttered Snape. 

"As I recall, Severus, you got rid of Lupin on your own," Malfoy reminded him. "Although I did approve of your actions at the time."

"Perhaps," Snape said reluctantly, "I could persuade Dumbledore to reinstate Lupin..."

"I'm afraid it's too late for that," said Malfoy. "He's pulled a great many strings to get Moody on the staff, and I don't think he'll change his mind now." 

Snape took a sip from his tankard and muttered something about Aurors and werewolves.

"Keep a close eye on Moody," Lucius warned. "I don't want him getting...jumpy, particularly around my son."

"I'll watch out for Draco," said Snape, a little impatiently. "Don't I always?"

"Of course, my old friend," Malfoy said smoothly. "But as a father, I can't help but be concerned. Especially since Moody still holds a grudge against us."

He was pleased that Snape picked up on the subtle note of warning in his voice and said in a more respectful tone, "I'll watch Moody carefully. And I hope you will warn Draco to be wary of him as well."

"Of course."

"I think, though, that Moody will be more focused on me than the students. It still burns him that I was never convicted and that Dumbledore hired me."

"Yes, he has always had a particular dislike for you, Severus. I wonder why?" Malfoy chuckled, and Snape smiled grimly. "And I suppose he will have another target for his rage besides you and Draco--I hear Ariane Donner asked you to get her son admitted."

"I just came from the hearing. Dumbledore has persuaded the governors to let Dylan Rosier into Hogwarts."

"It will be interesting to see how the boy has turned out," said Malfoy, a speculative look in his eyes. "Keep a close eye on him as well."

"Of course, Lucius. Ariane has asked me to look after him...'for old time's sake'."

"Do you think he will be a Slytherin?"

Snape shrugged. "Ariane seems to think so."

"Then I shall tell Draco to take the boy the under his wing."

Some unreadable emotion glittered in Snape's black eyes, then he smiled and lifted his tankard in a mock salute. "Just like old times."

Malfoy laughed and raised his glass. "To old times!" he said, and they drank to that toast.

*** 

Snape Apparated back into Lupin's cottage, took off his outer robe, and flung it down on the floor, cursing Malfoy under his breath.

"Severus?" said a sleepy voice.

Snape turned to see Lupin, who had apparently fallen asleep in a chair by the fireplace. Lupin yawned and stretched, and a book that had been lying forgotten on his lap tumbled to the floor. Snape picked it up and set it down on the table, then leaned over brushed his lips against Lupin's cheek, saying contritely, "Sorry I'm late. I didn't think you'd wait up for me."

Lupin smiled. "It's all right. But I didn't expect the hearing to take so long." Snape scowled, looking extremely vexed, and Lupin said in a concerned voice, "What's wrong? Was there a problem at the hearing?"

"No," said Snape, still scowling. "There was a lot of grumbling, but eventually everyone gave in and let Dumbledore get his way, as usual."

"So Dylan Rosier will be admitted to Hogwarts?"

"Yes."

"Then why are you so upset?" Lupin asked patiently.

"Two things. First of all, I just found out who your replacement is." Lupin looked at him expectantly, and Snape continued, "Alastor Moody."

"Mad-Eye Moody?" Lupin asked, startled. "That's an...unusual...choice. But I suppose he knows a lot about fighting the Dark Arts..."

Lupin sounded doubtful, and Snape considered that a bad sign. When even Remus Lupin--who gave almost everyone the benefit of the doubt--had reservations, it was a sign that things were looking very dark indeed. "Just lovely," Snape muttered. "I'm supposed to look after Rosier, who will be taught by the man who killed his father, and at the same time I'll have to watch my own back, because Moody has never believed that I really left the Death Eaters."

"Poor Severus," Lupin said sympathetically, stroking Snape's hand, but there was just a hint of laughter in his blue eyes.

"Go ahead and say it," sighed Snape.

"Say what, Severus?" Lupin asked, his eyes round and wide with an look of innocence that did not fool Snape for one second.

"It's my own fault that Moody's coming to Hogwarts," Snape growled, sounding both irritated and guilty at the same time. "If I hadn't forced you to leave--"

"What's done is done, Severus," Lupin said gently, with real sympathy this time. "I don't hold it against you."

"You should," Snape said gruffly. "I don't deserve you."

"No you don't," Lupin agreed in an amiable tone, laughing at his lover's offended look. He rose to his feet and put his arms around Snape. "But I love you anyway, so you're stuck with me."

Snape returned the embrace, burying his face in Lupin's hair as he mumbled, "I love you, Remus."

Lupin grinned. Whenever Severus said those words, he always spoke in a halting, slightly embarrassed voice, like that of an awkward schoolboy, but Lupin found it quite adorable. They held each other contentedly for a long moment, then something occurred to Lupin. "Er...Severus?"

"Hmm?"

"You said there were two things that were bothering you..."

"Oh." Snape pulled away slightly so he could look at Lupin. He frowned, but didn't look nearly as upset as he had a few minutes ago. "I was on my way back home when I received a summons from Lucius Malfoy. In his usual high-handed manner, of course, as if I were his personal errand boy." He was starting to scowl again.

"What did he want?"

"Just to warn me about Moody and to tell me to protect Draco from him. And to find out what happened at the hearing of course. He seemed pleased Rosier was admitted; said he was going to tell Draco 'to take the boy under his wing'. Just like old times." Snape was beginning to get agitated again. "Have you noticed, Lupin, that history seems to be repeating itself? We have a young Potter at Hogwarts, and a pack of junior Death Eaters--"

"They're not Death Eaters yet, Severus--"

Snape didn't seem to hear him. "I don't know how much longer I can take this, Lupin! How long until the Dark Lord makes his move? How long until Potter is strong enough to defeat him? God, I almost wish he would attack now and get it over with! I don't think I can stand another thirteen years of kissing up to Lucius Malfoy!"

"You had better be speaking figuratively, Severus," Lupin warned, attempting to lighten the mood. "I'm the only one you're allowed to kiss!"

Snape managed a weak smile. "Of course, Lupin. I'm not fool enough to make a werewolf jealous."

"Good. Because I'm very possessive. It brings out the beast in me." Lupin growled playfully, and Snape gave him a real smile this time.

"Ah, that's right...the full moon is tomorrow night, isn't it?"

"Yes." Lupin titled his head back, exposing his throat, knowing how much that always excited Severus. His lover didn't disappoint him; Snape immediately pressed his lips to the hollow of Lupin's throat, then bit down on the skin there, gently at first, then harder, as his hands began to caress Lupin's body. He had started this in an attempt to distract Severus from his troubles, but now the wolf was aroused, and Lupin moaned eagerly. Like a strong wine, the sweet, heady rush of desire heated his blood and clouded his thoughts. They didn't even make it to the bedroom; they sank to the floor right there in front of the fireplace, as Snape murmured something about how beautiful Lupin looked in the firelight. 

All thoughts of school, Aurors, and Death Eaters completely vanished from the minds of both men as they made love in front of the fire, warmed not so much by the flames as they were by each other.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The presence of Evan Rosier's son at Hogwarts brings back disturbing memories for Snape.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were standing on platform nine and three-quarters. As they waited for the Hogwarts Express to arrive, they happened to notice a boy about their age standing a few yards away from them, saying goodbye to his family. He was tall and fair-skinned, with gray eyes and shoulder-length black hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. He was embracing an elderly wizard who had long gray hair and an equally long beard. The beard and the kindly look in the old wizard's eyes reminded them a little of Dumbledore. 

"I will miss you, Dylan," said the old wizard. "But I am happy for you as well. I am not so old that I cannot remember what a great adventure it was, attending school at Hogwarts! I am sure you will get into mischief, as boys do, but make sure to work hard as well, and bring honor to us and to your mother."

"Yes, Great-Uncle Math," Dylan said. "I promise won't let you down."

A beautiful young woman standing next to them laughed and held her arms open. "Come give me a hug before you go, Dylan, but don't you dare call me 'Great-Aunt'!" She had long dark hair and blue eyes, and looked to be about the same age as Sirius and Professor Lupin.

"Yes, Aunt Goewin," the boy said with a grin, and gave her the hug she requested. "Give my love to Mother."

"I will, dear," she said, kissing him on the cheek. "Take care of yourself, and don't forget to write!"

"Yes, Aunt Goewin," Dylan said dutifully.

 

"Did you hear that?" Ron hissed incredulously. "Is that beautiful woman really married to that old geezer?!"

"Shhh!" Hermione said. "They might hear you! And anyway, it's none of your business!"

"I wonder who he is?" Harry said curiously. "He looks like he's about our age, but I've never seen him before. I suppose he might be younger than us, but he's too old to be a first-year."

Hermione looked at the boy again. "You're right; I don't recognize him either."

"Who's THAT?" exclaimed an eager voice behind them. It was their classmate, Parvati Patil.

"He's so handsome," sighed her twin sister Padma.

"We don't recognize him, either," said Hermione.

"He's too old to be a first-year," said Parvati.

"Maybe he's transferring from a different school?" suggested Harry.

"No one enters Hogwarts after the first year," Parvati said, a shocked look on her face. "It just isn't done!"

Hermione shrugged. "Well, there's only one way to find out," she said. The boy's aunt and uncle were gone, leaving him standing alone on the platform, except for a small brown-and-white barn owl in a cage at his feet. He opened the cage and let bird fly out and perch on his shoulder. Hermione walked up to the boy as Parvati and Padma squealed in shock. "Hello," she said, holding out her hand. "I'm Hermione Granger."

The boy gave her a friendly smile. "Pleased to meet you, Hermione. I'm Dylan Rosier," he said, shaking her hand. He spoke in a slight accent that gave his voice a pleasant, almost musical lilt. He wore a black Hogwarts robe, but wasn't wearing the colors of any particular House. "And this is Blodwen," he added, motioning to his owl.

"Hello, Blodwen," said Hermione. She heard a mew, and something furry brushed against her leg. "This is Crookshanks."

"Hello, Crookshanks." Dylan knelt down and reached out to pet the cat, but Crookshanks hissed and gave him a suspicious look.

"Sorry," said Hermione, looking embarrassed. "He's not usually like that..."

Dylan just laughed as he stood up again. "It's all right, cats are very temperamental. They only say hello when they want, to whom they want." 

Hermione smiled, relieved that he wasn't offended. "I don't mean to be rude, but I've never seen you at Hogwarts before..."

"And I'm too old to be a first-year," Dylan finished. "My family situation is a bit...complicated. I was tutored at home up until now, but I'll be entering Hogwarts as a third-year student, although technically it's my first year here."

"Oh," said Hermione. "I see." She didn't really see, but was too polite to press for more information. "I'm a fourth-year," she said, a little disappointed that the boy wasn't going to be sharing classes with them. "You've still to be sorted into a House, then?" He nodded. "I'm in Gryffindor; perhaps you'll join our House."

Dylan smiled, looking amused. "Perhaps. But perhaps not. My mother was a Ravenclaw, and my father--"

Parvati, with Padma in tow, had drifted up and said in exaggerated surprise, "Why hello, Hermione! Aren't you going to introduce us to your friend?"

Hermione forced herself not to roll her eyes, and said politely, "Dylan, this is Parvati Patil, my housemate, and her sister Padma. Parvati, Padma, this is Dylan Rosier."

The girls blushed and fluttered their eyelashes at Dylan as he turned his charming smile on them and shook their hands. Hermione shook her head slightly, disgusted with the girls for acting so silly, and saw that Harry and Ron had come over as well. When Padma reluctantly let go of Dylan's hand, Hermione said, "Dylan, these are my friends, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley."

Dylan's eyes went wide, and Harry grimaced; he was used to receiving that reaction from strangers, but he still didn't like it. But the boy quickly composed himself and extended his hand politely, if a bit cautiously, and said, "I'm Dylan Rosier."

"Hi," said Harry, shaking the other boy's hand. "Nice to meet you."

Dylan extended his hand to Ron, who just ignored it and scowled at him.

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed in outrage, but Dylan didn't seem to be particularly perturbed. He just gave Ron a cool, appraising look. 

Just then, the train pulled up. Hermione glared at Ron, then asked, "Would you like to share a compartment with us?" in an attempt to make up for Ron's rudeness.

Dylan smiled. "Thank you, Hermione," he said politely. "But I think perhaps it would be better if I didn't." His eyes slid over to Ron, who was still scowling at him unrepentantly. "I'll see you at school. It was nice meeting all of you."

Padma and Parvati looked like they both wanted to strangle Ron, and started to go after Dylan as he turned away, but just then Draco Malfoy and his cronies sauntered up to him. "Are you Dylan Rosier?" Malfoy asked in his usual imperious way.

"Yes."

"I'm Draco Malfoy, and this is Crabbe and Goyle. Our fathers went to school together."

"Yes," said Dylan quietly. "My mother has told me a great deal about your father."

"Well, my dad asked me to look after you," continued Draco, slipping an arm around Dylan's shoulders. "And a good thing too! You don't want to be caught hanging around with the riffraff," he said, sneering at Harry and his friends. 

"Why you--" Ron began angrily, but Malfoy was already walking away and stepping aboard the train. Dylan followed Malfoy without resistance, but he threw Hermione and the others a quick smile and a wink over his shoulder when Malfoy wasn't looking.

 

"I can't believe you were so rude, Ron Weasley!" said Hermione as they boarded the train.

"I can't believe YOU were chatting up the son of a Death Eater!" retorted Ron.

"What?!" squealed Padma and Parvati.

"What are you talking about?" Hermione asked impatiently.

"There was a Death Eater named Rosier who was killed during the war shortly before You-Know-Who fell. I'm pretty sure your precious Dylan is his son."

"Maybe it's not the same Rosier," said Parvati hopefully.

"How can it be?" Hermione said impatiently. "Dylan said he's entering as a third-year, so that makes him about thirteen--"

"Too bad he's younger than us," said Parvati, pouting slightly.

"There's nothing wrong with younger men!" giggled Padma.

"--and Harry was only a baby when..." Hermione hesitated, as Harry's eyes clouded. "When all that happened. Surely Dylan's too young to be that other Rosier's son."

"I heard Mum and Dad talking one night when they thought we kids were asleep," said Ron. "The Rosier who got killed, he left behind a pregnant girlfriend, some Ravenclaw girl--"

"Dylan said his mother was a Ravenclaw," said Hermione slowly.

"So the Death Eater Rosier died before his son was born," Ron finished. 

"How tragic," sighed Parvati dramatically.

Ron gave her a disgusted look. "I was wondering why they were talking about old history," he said. "They must've heard that his son was going to be entering Hogwarts this year. Did he say why he's only entering school now?"

"He said...he said his family situation was complicated," Hermione said, sounding worried. "But that doesn't necessarily mean--"

Ron snorted. "They probably wouldn't let him into the school 'cause of who his dad was. I wonder why Dumbledore changed his mind."

"But that's not really fair, is it?" protested Hermione. "I mean, it's not his fault if his dad was a criminal! He wasn't even born when that happened." Parvati and Padma nodded in agreement.

Harry looked troubled and said, "I wouldn't want people judging me by my relatives--look at the Dursleys! But on the other hand, look at Draco--he's turned out just as rotten as his father!"

"But Dylan never knew his father, poor thing!" said Parvati. "So maybe he's turned out okay."

"I hope he ends up in Ravenclaw!" said Padma eagerly. "After all, you said his mother was a Ravenclaw, right, Hermione?"

"He'll wind up in Slytherin," Ron said darkly. "Mark my words!"

*** 

Ron was right. Dylan was sorted along with the first-years, and the hat paused briefly before shouting, "SLYTHERIN!" Malfoy welcomed him to the Slytherin table with a smug smile, and Parvati sighed in disappointment.

"Too bad," said Harry. "He seemed a like a decent sort."

"Well, maybe he still is," Hermione said a little dubiously; the Slytherins were for the most part a pretty disagreeable lot, but it was only fair to give him the benefit of the doubt until proven otherwise.

"Oh, come on!" snorted Ron. "Can you name even one Slytherin who's not mean, stupid, or both?"

However, they soon forgot about the new student in all the excitement that followed Mad-Eye Moody's arrival and the Headmaster's announcement about the Triwizard Tournament. Thus, none of them saw Dylan's face when Moody entered the hall: his face turned white and his gray eyes narrowed as he stared intently at Moody, as if trying to burn that image--the image of the man who killed his father--into his mind. Then Malfoy cracked a joke, and Dylan's features quickly rearranged themselves into a polite mask of respectful attentiveness, and he laughed at Draco's joke. It all happened so quickly that not even the Slytherin children sitting at the table with him seemed to notice.

But Snape, from his seat at the staff table, did. And it disturbed him deeply, perhaps because he used to wear that same mask around Draco Malfoy's father. He remembered how careful he had been never to let that mask slip around his housemates, and he wondered what secrets Dylan Rosier might be hiding...

As soon as Dumbledore dismissed the students, Snape rose from his seat--he felt no desire to linger at the table, not with Moody rolling that blue eye in his direction--and swept by the Slytherin table. Without breaking stride, he said, "I wish to see you in my office, Mr. Rosier." 

He heard the scrape of a chair being pushed back followed by footsteps as the boy hastened to catch up with him, ignoring his housemates' calls of, "Better you than me, mate," "What did you do to get in trouble your first day, Rosier?" and "Don't worry, we'll give you a splendid funeral!" That was, come to think of it, the sort of thing Snape and his housemates would say to each other whenever Blackmore summoned one of them into her office for punishment. It rather pleased him to be thought of as intimidating as his old Professor. However, Snape and his friends would never have dared to say such things within Blackmore's hearing, and he frowned, resolving to be more strict with his students from now on. One couldn't really be considered intimidating unless the children quivered in fear at the mere thought of his displeasure, after all. 

Fortunately for Dylan, he was staring at his teacher's back and couldn't see the smile spreading across Snape's face, or he would have felt more nervous than he already was.

*** 

Snape sat behind his desk and motioned for the boy to take a seat. He did, watching Snape warily. His face was still arranged in that polite mask, but he looked a little pale, and his gray eyes were anxious. "Oh, don't look at me that way, boy!" Snape said irritably. "I just wanted to talk to you in private before classes started." He wondered what the students--and Ariane--had told Dylan about him.

"Yes, sir," said Dylan, relaxing slightly. "I'm glad to have the chance to talk to you. I wanted to thank you for speaking on my behalf, and helping me get admitted to Hogwarts. My mother sends her regards as well."

The boy's tone was as respectful as one could wish, but something about it bothered Snape slightly. He seemed just a little too smooth and self-possessed for a thirteen-year old boy who had grown up in isolation. Then again, Ariane had always carried herself with an air of dignity bordering on arrogance, so perhaps he had learned it from his mother. Well, it was too late to change his mind now; the boy was enrolled at Hogwarts, for good or for ill, and Snape would have to keep a close eye on him. Aloud, he said, "Many of the staff members and governors had reservations about admitting you, Mr. Rosier; if you truly wish to thank me, you may do so by proving me right and them wrong."

"Yes, Professor Snape. I'm very grateful to you, and I promise I won't let you down."

"I'm glad to hear it," said Snape. "But I must warn you to be very careful. No doubt some of the other boys will try to lead you into mischief on occasion, particularly Mr. Malfoy. Our Headmaster is rather lenient, and believes that a certain amount of...youthful exuberance..." Snape mouth twisted in distaste as they formed those words. "...is to be expected. But what applies to other students does not necessarily apply to you--you are here only on sufferance, and what might be dismissed as a harmless prank in another student could get you expelled. It may not be fair, but that is the way things are. Do you understand me, Mr. Rosier?"

"Yes, Professor Snape," Dylan said quietly. "I will be careful. My mother, and my aunt and uncle have already advised me so as well. I do not wish to bring shame upon my family, particularly my mother, who has suffered so much already."

Snape was relieved to see a hint of genuine emotion in the boy's eyes. "Good. One more thing--you must be even more careful around Professor Moody." He saw the boy tense, and Dylan could not quite keep the hatred from showing in his gray eyes. "No matter how you feel, you must not give him any reason--any excuse--to find fault with you. Moody is, to be quite frank, extremely paranoid and will see Dark Magic in the smallest hex, particularly coming from you. He will have you expelled or worse on the slightest pretext, considering who your father was."

"Yes, Professor," Dylan said through gritted teeth. "Mother has already warned me. But it's so hard, seeing him in person, knowing that he killed my father--"

"I know," Snape said quietly. "But your father would not wish to see you expelled or even arrested, should you lose your temper and do something foolish." The boy nodded reluctantly, and Snape smiled sardonically. "If it's any consolation, I'm sure Moody finds your presence to be equally disturbing. Don't give him the satisfaction of letting him be rid of you. Stay, and be a thorn in his side." The boy perked up slightly at that. "Be polite--or at least, don't be rude. In fact, be as quiet and unnoticeable as you can in his class."

"Yes, Professor," Dylan said obediently.

"I know it will be difficult--"

"I can do it," Dylan said, a look of steely determination in his eyes.

"Yes, I believe you can," Snape murmured. The boy seemed to have inherited both Ariane's and Evan's stubbornness; he wasn't sure if that was an entirely good thing... "Very well; you may go now."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." Dylan started to leave, then paused in the doorway. "Professor Snape?"

"Yes?" The boy hesitated for a moment, not replying. "Well, what is it?" Snape asked impatiently.

"I was just wondering..." Dylan's earlier aloof self-assurance was gone; he was suddenly shy and anxious, making him seem much more like the child he really was. "You knew my father...you were friends in school..."

It wasn't quite a question, but Snape answered, a little evasively, "We were yearmates and housemates, yes."

"I was just wondering if..." Dylan took a deep breath, and said quickly, as if rushing to get the words out, "If maybe I could come back to your office and you could tell me about him sometime?"

Snape was taken aback, but silently cursed himself for being taken by surprise; he should have expected this.

"Please? I mean, sometime when you're not too busy, of course," Dylan said hastily. "I mean, Mother's told me about him, of course, but she only got to know him in their fifth year, so you've known him longer..." His voice trailed off, and he stared at Snape with pleading eyes. 

Snape groaned inwardly. The very last thing he wanted to do was talk about old times and deceased Death Eaters. But the boy was staring at him with what Snape had come to think of as "the puppy-dog look" because Lupin used it on him all the time, and he found himself saying, "Very well."

It came out sounding more grudging than gracious, but Dylan's face lit up and he said, "Thank you, Professor! Thank you so much!"

"Yes, yes," Snape grumbled. "Now run along and go to bed; you start classes early tomorrow morning."

"Yes, sir! And thank you again!" 

The door slammed shut behind the boy, and Snape groaned out loud this time, holding his head between his hands. _I must be going soft!_ he thought. _And it's all Lupin's fault!_ The werewolf was a very bad influence. Death Eaters' children, an Auror with a grudge, and no Lupin to console him or share his bed; it was going to be a very long school year...

*** 

The door to Snape's office slammed open without warning, causing Snape to jump up from his desk with a start. It was Mad-Eye Moody dragging Draco Malfoy by one arm. The boy's pale face was flushed red, his normally neatly combed hair was in disarray and falling into his eyes, and those pale eyes were staring at Moody with a combined look of terror and resentment. Then he turned his gaze to Snape, staring at him pleadingly. Snape groaned silently, _Oh lovely! Just how I wanted to start off the school year!_ "Don't you know how to knock, Moody?" he asked sourly.

Moody ignored him and gave Malfoy a shake. "I don't like people who attack when their opponent's back is turned!"

"Professor, I didn't--" wailed Malfoy.

"I don't like liars, either!" growled Moody, giving the boy another shake.

"Stop manhandling my student, Moody," Snape said coldly. "I'm the Head of Slytherin House, and if there's a problem with one of my students, I'LL deal with it."

Moody shoved Malfoy away from him, and the boy scuttled around the desk, hiding behind Snape. "He attacked Harry Potter--"

"Knowing Potter, I'm sure he did something to provoke Malfoy--"

"He insulted my mother!" Malfoy piped up, braver now that he had Snape between him and Moody.

"He attacked when Potter's back was turned," Moody said. "But I suppose cowardice is a Slytherin trait, eh?"

Now Snape's face went red as well, and he gave Moody a murderous glare. "Evan Rosier and Lyall Wilkes weren't cowards," he said, pointedly looking at the missing chunk in Moody's nose. "Whatever their other faults might have been," he added silkily as Moody's face went dark with rage.

"Just like old times, eh Snape?" snarled Moody. "There's you, there's Malfoy here, Crabbe and Goyle, and I hear Rosier's son just started here as well. I'll be keeping my eye on you--on all of you. If you put one foot out of line...well, there's plenty of room in Azkaban, and I'm sure your old friends would be happy to see you."

"Paranoid as always, Moody," Snape spat. "You're creating a conspiracy out of a simple schoolboy quarrel."

"Just remember what I said, Snape," Moody growled. His blue eye rolled in Malfoy's direction. "And you too, boy! Tell your father what I said." He turned and lurched out of the office, his wooden leg making a clunking sound that echoed in the dungeon corridor.

 

As soon as Moody was gone, Malfoy turned to Snape and spluttered hysterically, "You've got to do something about that madman, Professor! A ferret! He turned me into a ferret!"

Snape frowned. "Sit down and calm yourself, Mr. Malfoy." The boy obediently dropped into a chair, but was still babbling incoherently about ferrets. His face was now sheet-white instead of red, and he was trembling violently. Snape sighed; Lupin was the one who knew how to comfort distraught children, not him. _But Lupin's not here now, is he? Thanks to you,_ Snape's inner voice reminded him. He stopped to ponder what Lupin might have done, then remembered that he used to talk to Potter over a cup of tea. Snape shrugged; that was as a good a place as any to start. He fixed a cup of tea, then did something Lupin would not have done--he took a dusty bottle of brandy down from a shelf and stirred a large dollop of it into the tea. Snape rarely drank, except for the occasional glass of wine with dinner, and never to excess; he hated losing control of himself for any reason. But the parents of his students often gave him expensive gifts--including bottles of liquor--for Christmas. He kept the brandy in his office because it could occasionally be used as an ingredient in certain potions, and now possibly to revive students in shock. He handed the cup to Malfoy and said gruffly, "Drink this."

Malfoy gave him a startled look, but accepted the cup and took a sip. He grimaced slightly at the taste, but started to relax as the alcohol kicked in. By the time he finished the last of the tea-and-brandy mixture, the color had returned to his face and he had stopped trembling. "Thank you, Professor," he said, sounding grateful and almost meek.

Snape blinked. A humbled and chastened Malfoy--would miracles never cease? "You're welcome," he said, surprising both himself and Malfoy. He cleared his throat and returned to his usual severe, intimidating tone of voice. "Now, tell me what happened. From the beginning."

"Well, like I said Potter was insulting my mother--"

"I said, from the beginning, Mr. Malfoy!" Snape said sharply. Malfoy gave him another startled look; he wasn't used to Professor Snape speaking to him that way. _Well get used to it, boy,_ he thought darkly. He had clearly indulged Draco too much--keeping on the good side of Lucius Malfoy was one thing, but it went too far when the boy brought a trigger-happy former Auror to his door.

Malfoy was still too cowed to object. "I was just showing Potter and Weasley this article from the Daily Prophet," he whined. "It's not my fault Weasley's father is so incompetent that he got written up by Rita Skeeter. They got mad and started insulting my mother, and I just threw a little curse at Potter--" Snape glared at him, raising an eyebrow. "Okay, maybe it was more than a little curse, but--Moody turned me into a ferret! A FERRET! He BOUNCED me across the hall! Merlin knows what he'd have done to me if McGonagall hadn't shown up!"

"Use some common sense, Malfoy!" Snape said impatiently, and Draco gave him a wounded look. Snape ignored him. "Learn to pick and choose your battles, boy! Is some foolish quarrel worth getting turned into a ferret?"

"But Professor--"

"At the very least, don't be stupid enough to pick a fight with Potter in front of a teacher, particularly one who used to be an Auror! A very paranoid Auror at that, might I remind you? The man is not entirely sane, Malfoy; how do you think he got the nickname 'Mad-Eye'? As an Auror, he had the authority to use the Unforgivable Curses on Death Eaters, and he used them quite frequently, I assure you! Have you forgotten that he's killed at least two of your father's friends?" _"Friends,"_ Snape thought scornfully. _At least, that's what Lucius calls the people he uses--until they are of no more use to him._

"Rosier and Wilkes," Draco mumbled, sounding much more subdued. "Dylan's dad. But--surely he's not allowed to use them anymore, not on a student--"

"Don't you get it, Malfoy?" Snape asked in frustration. "Haven't you noticed yet that Moody doesn't much care about the rules? Oh, if he maimed or killed you, no doubt your father would have him thrown into Azkaban, maybe even executed. But that wouldn't do your corpse much good, now would it?" Malfoy was staring at him in horror; Snape smiled grimly. _Ah, nothing like a good dose of reality to shake one's sense of complacency; it's high time you realized there are situations that your father's influence can't get you out of._ Aloud, he said, "Moody doesn't see you and the other Slytherins as children, Mr. Malfoy. To him you are all budding Dark Wizards, and if it were up to him, he would destroy you all, as one would destroy a nest of vipers." Perhaps he was laying it on a bit thick, but anything less wouldn't get through to the boy. Hmm...this might be an opportunity to plant a small seed of thought in Draco without too much risk to his cover. "You wish to become a powerful wizard like your father," he said in a smooth, silky voice. "But power does not come without a price, Draco. The more powerful you are, the more enemies you will make, and the more dangerous those enemies become. Look what happened to Dylan's father, after all...that might have been me or your father, under different circumstances. Look what happened to Dylan--a child who had done nothing wrong save be born to the wrong parents, consigned to exile for thirteen years..."

"That's not fair!" Malfoy protested, but he still looked pale and subdued.

"Surely, Draco," Snape said with a cynical smile, "your father must have taught you by now that the world is not fair." Draco reluctantly nodded, and Snape decided that was enough for one day. If he pushed too hard, the boy would not be able to handle it, and would simply reject everything Snape told him. "Just be more careful in the future," he said in an almost kindly voice. "Especially around Moody. And remember, it doesn't hurt to present a respectable face to the outside world."

"Yes, sir," mumbled Draco. "My father says that, too."

Snape fought back a scowl; he didn't like being compared to Lucius Malfoy, but he supposed the boy meant well. "Well, run along then, and stay out of trouble--I don't want to see Moody in my office again, is that clear, Malfoy?"

"Yes, Professor." The boy got up, then paused at the door. "Er...Professor?"

"Yes?" Snape asked, a little irritably.

"Thanks for the tea." 

Snape looked up in astonishment, but Draco was already gone.

*** 

Dear Lupin,

Things are not going well. I have the feeling that Mad-Eye Moody already has a cozy prison cell awaiting me at Azkaban, and he and Draco Malfoy had a little run-in. Malfoy and Potter got into a squabble, and Draco threw a curse Potter's way, which I admit was stupid, but Moody overreacted. He turned Malfoy into a ferret and bounced him across the room! The Gryffindors are still laughing about it, and Mr. Malfoy is still traumatized by the incident. That might turn out to be a good thing, though; it's the first time he's ever realized that there could be consequences for his actions, and trouble that his father might not be able to buy his way out of. 

As for Mr. Rosier, his behavior has been impeccable, even around Moody, but I confess that makes me a little nervous; he seems too self-contained for such a young boy. I can already hear you saying, "But so were you, Severus," so don't waste your breath! I and many of my housemates learned such self-control at an early age, but that is not necessarily a good thing. We were drilled in discipline and the Dark Arts long before we reached Hogwarts, and were already on the road to becoming potential Death Eaters. This younger generation, though, is softer--even Lucius's own son. They are spoiled and selfish and mean-spirited, but still behave like children, so perhaps there is some hope for them. But Dylan is more like the Slytherins of my time. Oh, except when he talks about his father--it's clear that Ariane has brought him up to idolize Evan, and he has asked if I will tell him what his father was like at school! What am I supposed to do, Lupin?! Tell him how Lucius Malfoy enlisted us in the Dark Lord's service? Tell him about the jolly old times when we Death Eaters went out hunting Muggles? The Headmaster has asked me to "be a friend to Dylan". I'm a Potions Master, not a baby-sitter! I might as well turn the dungeon into a nursery, what with all the brats crawling around my office! I don't know how to be a friend to these children, Lupin! I don't know how to keep their parents from turning them over to the Dark Lord! I wish you were here--you're the one who was good with children; you might be able to get through to Dylan at least, if not Malfoy...

Well, it's my own fault that you're not here, so I suppose I shouldn't complain. But I miss you, Remus; this would all be easier to bear if you were here with me. Take care of yourself, and let me know if you need anything. I'm sending along your monthly dose of Wolfsbane Potion; remember that you must heat it to boiling and then let it simmer to be effective.

Snape

P.S. Albus, if you're reading this, you should know that I have placed a hex upon this letter that will cause warts to grow on anyone who opens it other than Lupin.

*** 

Dear Severus,

I miss you too, and you can complain to me anytime you wish. I would rather you vent to me than try and bottle it up inside; if you keep that up you'll find yourself exploding one day. (Though that would be a sight to see!) Thanks for the potion; I wish you were here to keep the wolf company. I think I'll rather miss being scratched behind the ears!

By the way, you complain about Moody being paranoid--look at you! I'm sure Albus would never read our personal correspondence. And besides, do you really think the Headmaster of Hogwarts can't disable a simple wart-hex?

As for dealing with the children...well, I am not there, so you will have to handle it on your own, Severus. I have confidence in you, even if you do not. Simply lead by example, and be yourself. You may not be the most charming person in the world--and anyway, you'd probably give the children heart attacks if you started being nice to them, but you have always followed your own code of honor. Let the children see that; let them see a teacher who does what he thinks is right, no matter how difficult it might be, no matter how unpopular it makes him. For that is that is what I see, what I have always seen in you, even when others could not. Perhaps not all the children will be able to pick up on it, but the more perceptive ones will.

I am doing well and keeping busy; Albus has steered a few translation jobs my way, and I am working hard on improving my Japanese. Naoto has said translators who are also wizards are in short supply there, especially ones who can speak French and German as well as English, and he should be able to find plenty of work for me once I become fluent in Japanese. It is a truly beautiful language, and I am enjoying myself even though I am working as hard as I ever did at Hogwarts. 

With love,  
Remus

*** 

Lupin,

"Lead by example"; "be yourself"--thanks for the advice, but easier said than done! As for Albus, he's a nosy, meddling, old busybody! Now you've got me paranoid that he's reading our letters even though the hex hasn't been triggered; thanks a lot!

Oh, and be sure you tell Naoto that any translation work he gives you has to be done from home! I don't want you traipsing off to Japan to flirt with some kitsune or werewolf!

Snape

P.S. And what's with the crack about me not being charming? I seem to recall YOU found me plenty charming, especially whenever it was close to the full moon...

*** 

Dear Severus,

How can I resist you, when you're such a smooth sweet-talker? Do you think you can manage to sneak away for a weekend? You're driving me wild with desire! 

Love,   
Remus

*** 

Dear Lupin,

Sarcasm does not become you. It's very busy here, with the preparations for the Tournament, but I'll try to get away for a day or two. Dumbledore seems to take a rather unseemly interest in our relationship; though it galls me to have to ask him for a favor, I'm sure he'll cover for me. Besides, he owes me one, what with this "befriend the Rosier boy" business. I'll let you know when I'm coming.

Snape

*** 

Dylan Rosier found the hectic life at Hogwarts a little overwhelming, after living on a distant estate in Wales, not seeing much of anyone but his mother, his great-uncle and aunt, and the servants. But at the same time, it was quite exhilarating. He made plenty of "friends" in Slytherin, thanks to Draco Malfoy's influence; some of them he even liked, but following his mother's advice, he was careful not to trust any of them. The other Houses normally didn't associate with the Slytherins, but Dylan, again following his mother's advice, tried not to alienate the other students, and was as friendly to them as he could get away with, without offending Malfoy. Thus he became an oddity, a Slytherin who was popular--especially with the girls. The boys from the other Houses treated him warily, but seemed to regard as him as "all right for a Slytherin," except for the Gryffindors. But the girls of all the Houses fell over themselves to flirt with him and offer to help him with his homework--or ask him to help them with theirs. Draco started to become jealous of all the attention he was getting, but Dylan disarmed him by deferring to the older boy, somehow managing to be respectful without being sycophantic like Crabbe and Goyle. He was quick to ask Draco for advice, pleading ignorance and inexperience, and the Malfoy boy puffed up with pride when Dylan humbly asked Draco to teach him how to play Quidditch.

"You see," said Dylan, "there were no other children on the estate, so I never had a chance to play before. And you being the Seeker and all...I thought maybe you could give me a few pointers. If you don't mind."

Draco beamed, and he drew himself up, seeming to stand a few inches taller. "Of course I don't mind, Rosier," he said magnanimously, with the air of a king granting his subject a boon. "You've come to the right man!"

Dylan repressed a smile as he thanked Draco. For someone whose father was the terror of the wizarding world, Draco seemed like a bit of a dimwit. No...on second thought, Malfoy did well enough in class, so he couldn't be stupid. _He's never had to work for anything in his life,_ Dylan suddenly realized. _He's had everything handed to him on a silver platter._ The other Slytherin students deferred to him because of who his father was, so he had never had to exert himself to win their respect or make them like him. He never questioned the motives behind Dylan's "friendship" because he assumed that Dylan, like all the others, must be sucking up to him because he came from a rich and powerful family. But adversity built character, or so Dylan's mother told him. He had learned to hold his tongue and swallow his pride when his grandmother and uncles berated him or insulted his parents; he had learned to behave like a perfect angel so that he would be given the chance to enter Hogwarts despite his father's reputation. He had learned to evaluate everyone he met with a cynical eye, to see how they might be of use--or a danger--to him, out of sheer necessity. He thought perhaps that gave him an advantage over someone like Malfoy. So with that secret feeling of superiority, he was able to tolerate Draco's patronizing attitude.

He rather liked the girl he had met on the platform, Hermione Granger; it was a pity that Draco despised her for being a "Mudblood"--and for showing him up in class, Dylan suspected. He had conflicting feelings about Mudbloods and Muggles--his father had died fighting to keep the wizard race pure, but Uncle Math and Aunt Goewin, who were the only family members other than his mother to show him any kindness, adamantly believed that people should be judged on merit, not blood. As a small boy, his great-uncle had scolded him when he heard Dylan unthinkingly use the word "Mudblood".

*** 

"That is a foul word, Dylan," the old wizard said gravely. "You should think before you use it. I believe in judging people by their actions and ability, not by who their parents are. Think of all the people who say cruel things about you, Dylan, who say you will turn out bad because your father was a Death Eater."

"Pure blood is no guarantee of a pure heart," Goewin said bitterly. "Your own uncles are proof of that!" Then she fell silent, realizing she had said too much, and her husband reached over to put a comforting arm around her. Dylan knew his mother's brothers had done something bad to Goewin when she had been a young girl who was apprenticed to Uncle Math. When he grew older, he learned from the whispered gossip of the servants that they had taken advantage of her, maybe even raped her. Mathias had punished them by transfiguring them into beasts, and sending them out to live in the woods like the animals they were for three years. And then he restored Goewin's honor by taking her as his wife, and bestowing upon her all his lands and wealth. The servants felt sorry for her, a beautiful young woman married to an old man, but as far as Dylan could tell, Goewin seemed happy, and adored the old wizard. As for Dylan, he adored his kindly great-uncle and his beautiful great-aunt, and the whispered rumors only gave him more reason to hate his uncles, who despised him and were rude to his mother. 

As for his mother, she scolded him severely when she discovered what he had said and that Uncle Math had overheard him. She didn't particularly like the Muggle-born, but nor did she feel the need to exterminate them. However, her main concern was that he might ruin his chances of being accepted into society. 

"You must never, ever say such things, at least not where anyone can overhear you!" she said sternly. "You must be beyond reproach, or my mother will keep you locked up here on this estate forever, and you will never go to school, never go out into the world and become the great wizard I know you can be!" His mother's beautiful silvery-gray eyes had filled with tears, and Dylan promised that he would do whatever she said, however hard it was, in order to make her proud of him and become the wizard she wanted him to be. "You will be my redemption, my revenge..." she whispered as she held him close. "Keep your father in your heart, and know that he will understand that you are doing what you must to survive." And from that moment on, Dylan had never faltered in his resolve.

*** 

Anyway, it was too bad about Hermione; he liked her attitude--she didn't seem to much care what anyone thought of her, and spoke her mind and did as she pleased. Since she was a year older, they ran into each other only occasionally, but she was always nice to him, although her friend Ron still looked at him like he was a piece of garbage. Harry Potter was never rude to him, but watched Dylan warily as if he were afraid the Slytherin boy would stab him in the back at any moment. Dylan thought Hermione's ideas about house elves were silly, but he bought a S.P.E.W. badge from her anyway, simply because it amused him, though he was careful to keep that a secret from Malfoy. Actually, the idea of the house elves going on strike and rioting through the castle was hilarious; too bad Malfoy and his cronies didn't see it that way. That would be a prank that would make them legends among the Hogwarts students for generations to come; ah well...he had promised his mother and Professor Snape that he would stay out of trouble, after all.

That turned Dylan's thoughts towards his teachers: no one other than Moody was openly rude to him, but most of them regarded him with a certain degree of suspicion; McGonagall in particular seemed to keep a sharp eye on him during class. Only the Headmaster and Flitwick were actually kind to him. Flitwick had been Ariane's Head of House when she attended Hogwarts, and he must have had a soft spot for her, because he went out of his way to be nice to Dylan and try to make him feel welcome even though he was a Slytherin, not a Ravenclaw. The Headmaster treated Dylan with the same kindness and jovial good humor he showed to all the students, but it was difficult to tell what the old wizard was really thinking behind the facade of that kindly smile. Dylan's mother had warned him that Dumbledore was a wizard to be reckoned with, the only wizard Voldemort had ever feared, and that while he believed in second chances, he was far from stupid or naive. 

As for Moody, it was hard to show no emotion, hard not to squirm in fear, when that ugly face glared at him and that horrible blue eye rolled in his direction. But years of insults and verbal abuse from his grandmother and uncles had taught him to keep his face schooled in an expressionless mask. Dylan took Snape's advice and sat quietly, never speaking unless he was called upon, which was rare. Moody taught them about Dark creatures, and how to counter simple curses and hexes. He had them work in pairs; Dylan, who had been tutored by one of the best wizards in the world--his Great-Uncle Mathias--found the countercurses to be child's play. 

When Moody saw that, he gave Dylan a sort of backhanded compliment. "Talented in the Dark Arts, eh boy? Not surprising, considering who your father was."

Dylan's face turned red, and he bit his lip to keep from shouting, "You have no right to talk about my father, you filthy murderer!" But then he thought of his mother, who had pinned all her hopes and dreams on him; of his great-uncle and aunt, who had loved him and fought for his right to attend Hogwarts, which had earned them some ill-will and resentment; and finally, he thought of his hated grandmother and uncles, and how they would sneer at Ariane and say, "I told you so," if Dylan were sent home in disgrace. He held his head up high, and his resolve strengthened; he would rather die than be the cause of more torment for his mother. Then he remembered Professor Snape's words: "Don't give him the satisfaction...be a thorn in his side," and he smiled.

"Thank you, sir," Dylan said, in a respectful tone that no one could possibly find fault with.

Then it was Moody's face that turned red, and both his eyes glared at Dylan, who just stared back at him with a blank look of innocence. "I'll be keeping my eye on you, boy, so watch your step!" he growled, then stomped away, moving on to the next pair of students. 

Dylan was careful to keep the polite mask on his face, but inside he was gloating. Being in Moody's class wasn't going to be as bad as he thought it would!

*** 

Professor Snape wasn't exactly kind to Dylan, but then again, he wasn't exactly kind to anyone. He had a perpetually sour expression on his sallow face, and was strict and short-tempered, tolerating no nonsense in his classroom. He was, however, a very good Potions teacher, and Dylan found his class to be a challenge. That was all to the good, as far as Dylan was concerned; he enjoyed a challenge, and was here to learn magic, not just coast through school until his parents found him a cushy Ministry job like some of his classmates. Dylan found he seemed to have a talent for Potions, and one day Snape gave him a curt nod of approval when he finished mixing a particularly difficult potion, which was about as demonstrative as Snape ever seemed to get.

He had heard from Parvati Patil that Snape favored his own House over all the others, and that he was particularly harsh on Gryffindor. From what Dylan had observed, this was true, but only to a certain extent. It was true that Snape favored the Slytherins slightly, but he tolerated no disrespect or horseplay in class, even from them; in fact, his housemates were complaining that Snape was being especially strict with them this year. Snape did seem to enjoy taking points off Gryffindor, but as far as Dylan could see, he never did so for no reason, although he did penalize them for things that other teachers would let go with a warning. Perhaps it was only the fourth-year Gryffindors he treated harshly, because Harry Potter was in that class. Malfoy had gleefully told Dylan that Snape absolutely loathed Potter, and by extension, Potter's friends. Ariane had told him that Snape and Potter's father were rivals in school, and sometimes when they all took meals together in the Great Hall, he saw Snape staring at Potter with a look of hatred on his face. And then he would see Moody's blue eye swivel in Snape's direction, watching him carefully.

 

One day, Dylan summoned up his courage, and went down to Snape's dungeon office and knocked on the door. "Come in," Snape called.

"Professor?" Dylan asked hesitantly as he walked into the room. "Do you have time to talk?"

Snape frowned, looking up from a stack of papers he was grading. "I suppose so," he said without much enthusiasm. "I did promise you I would talk to you about your father, didn't I?"

"Yes, sir."

Snape sighed. "Have a seat, then, boy."

Dylan sat down in a chair in front of Snape's desk, but then had no idea what to say next. He felt rather intimidated by the room, which was dark and unwelcoming, the firelight casting eerie shadows on shelves filled with glass jars containing unidentifiable but grotesque and slimy-looking creatures. Dylan wondered whether Snape actually used them in potions or whether he just kept them in his office to frighten his students. The Potions Master was staring at him with an odd expression on his face, not exactly angry, but brooding and unhappy, as if he would rather be anywhere but here, which didn't make Dylan feel any more at ease.

"Well, what do you want to know, Mr. Rosier?" Snape finally asked.

"I...I don't know what to ask, Professor," Dylan stammered. "Just--what was he like when he was a boy?"

Snape sighed again, absent-mindedly rubbing his left wrist with his right hand. "You must understand, although we were yearmates, I was not especially close to Evan, although I did get to know him better when we...got older." He grimaced, perhaps remembering his days as a Death Eater. Dylan would certainly have liked to learn more about those days, but didn't have the courage to ask. Snape paused, appearing to choose his words carefully, then continued, "Evan was always handsome and charming, even as a first-year. He even charmed the teachers; I don't know how many times he sweet-talked his way out of detention. No one else could have gotten away with that." Then Snape actually cracked a small smile. "He even dared to flirt with Professor Blackmore when he was a fourth-year; he asked her for a dance at the Yule Ball. We were all horrified--we thought she would turn him into a toad, or call down a bolt of lightning on him right then and there."

Dylan's mother had told him about the dreaded Professor Blackmore, but he had never heard this story before! "So what did she do?" he asked impatiently, his eyes wide and eager.

Snape was still smiling. "You never met Professor Blackmore, of course, so you have no idea how terrifying she was--"

"As terrifying as you?" Dylan muttered, distracted by thoughts of his father, then realized he had spoken out loud and clamped his hands over his mouth in horror. How could he have been so careless and stupid! "Oh! Professor, I apologize, I wasn't--"

But astonishingly, Snape just laughed. Dylan's jaw dropped open, nearly hitting the floor. Snape grinned evilly and said, "Oh, worse, I assure you--much worse!" Dylan shuddered at the thought, and Snape said wryly, "Difficult to imagine, isn't it, boy?"

Dylan wasn't sure whether it was safe to answer in the affirmative or not. "Ah...so what happened, sir?" he asked in a more subdued voice. "Obviously, she didn't kill him..."

"She accepted. The entire room fell silent; I am still surprised that no one, including your father, had a heart attack. I don't think he really expected her to say yes, but she did, and she danced just the one dance with him, but it made his reputation in Slytherin House--in the whole school, for that matter! He was quite the ladies' man you know--before he met your mother, of course." Snape still seemed amused; Dylan was relieved that he seemed to be in a better mood now. "He pushed his luck a little too far, though. He tried to flirt with her in class, and she gave him detention--scrubbing bedpans in the infirmary for a week. With a toothbrush. And no use of magic allowed." He smiled that evil smile again, and Dylan suspected Snape had co-opted that punishment for his own use; he resolved that he would never find out if that were true or not--he would be a perfect little angel so that Professor Snape would have no reason to ever give him detention...

"My parents met in Professor Blackmore's class, didn't they?" Dylan asked. He knew this story, of course, but he never tired of hearing it, and perhaps Snape might be able to tell him something his mother hadn't.

"Yes. Well, of course, they had known of each other for years, but they didn't become...involved...till their fifth year." Snape rubbed his wrist again, and his expression looked almost nostalgic. "Blackmore decided she wanted promote inter-House cooperation, and paired off students from different Houses to work together on an elemental-summoning project..."

 

Snape felt a great deal more relaxed; it was proving easier than he had thought it would be to pick out a few harmless anecdotes to tell the boy without delving into their Death Eater years.

"And my parents were paired together," Dylan said, with the air of a child being told a favorite fairy tale.

"Yes. They weren't very happy about it, though. Evan called Ariane a--" Snape broke off just in time, remembering that Dylan was Ariane's son and might not appreciate his mother being referred to as a "snooty bitch". "--A snob," Snape finished, a little lamely. "And Ariane told Evan she would have his head on a platter if he lowered her grade point average. She took her studies quite seriously, you see, and your father did not. He was a clever lad, but spent more time chasing girls and getting into mischief than he did studying."

"My mother said he was a charming rogue," Dylan said, apparently unoffended.

"Yes, he was. I still don't know exactly what happened, but they must have grown close while working together on the project, because after it was over, Lucius Malfoy caught your mother and father kissing in a side corridor. It caused quite an uproar in Slytherin House, as I recall." Snape remembered it well, because he had just come back after sharing his first kiss with Lupin to find Malfoy and Rosier screaming at each other. Those memories were bittersweet; now that he and Lupin were back together again, he could look back upon their schoolboy days with a kind of wistful pleasure, but he could never forget the pain of being betrayed--by Lupin, he had thought, although it was really Sirius Black who had been solely responsible. Nearly twenty bitter years of separation had passed before they had found each other again, and Snape would never forgive Black for that. They were together and happy now, after a fashion, but older, wiser, and more cynical. That was inevitable, Snape supposed, but he still mourned the loss of the innocent, lovesick boys they had been--if a Slytherin could be called innocent--and the sweet feeling of trust, the incredulous joy he had felt when he first discovered Lupin cared about him. They had been full of hope then, and anything had seemed possible...he remembered their silly daydreams about opening a potions shop together, or living in a little cottage complete with picket fence and pet dog...

"Um...sir?" Dylan was asking, looking at him curiously, and Snape shook himself out of his reverie.

"Yes, well," Snape said briskly, "Lucius--Draco Malfoy's father--was not very pleased with your father, but Evan refused to give Ariane up. Ariane's housemates were equally against the relationship, I believe. But they snuck around and saw each other in secret. Lucius eventually gave in when he saw how determined Evan was." Snape grimaced slightly; that was not exactly true, but it was too dangerous to tell the boy what had really happened: Lucius had used Evan's love for Ariane to lure him into Voldemort's service. When her family had tried to separate them, Lucius had told Evan that his Master could give him enough power to make the Donner family bow down to him and consent to his and Ariane's marriage. But it had been a lie...Evan had never had a chance to marry his beloved, and Voldemort had given him nothing but death, leaving behind a grieving lover and a fatherless child. Snape's earlier good mood had dissipated, but he continued with the story. "Your mother's family threatened to disown her if she continued to see Evan, but she defied them. They pretended to break up, but she continued to see him in secret, and as soon as we all graduated, they moved in together. But your mother has probably told you all that." Snape didn't care to cover the years that followed, the years they spent as Death Eaters. The boy was quiet, seeming to sense that the interview was over, and Snape said, "Well, I still have papers to grade, and I believe you still have some Potions homework to complete..." Dylan immediately got to his feet; at least the boy knew how to take a hint.

"Yes, sir. Thank you for your time." The boy hesitated at the door. "May I come see you again sometime, Professor?"

Snape sighed. There was that puppy-dog look again...no doubt Lupin and Dumbledore would tell him he should say yes, and continue to work on befriending the boy. But he wasn't sure that indulging the boy in fantasizing about a near-perfect father was the way to do it. Sooner or later fantasy and reality would clash, and the reality of it was that while Evan Rosier had been a handsome and charming young man, he had also been foolish, arrogant, and callous. Although Malfoy and Voldemort had seduced Rosier by using his love for Ariane against him, Evan's conscience had never seemed to bother him much, and he'd had no qualms about torturing and killing Muggles and Mudbloods. Snape remembered that Evan had laughed at the branding ceremony, when the Dark Mark had been burned into their arms, his eyes shining with excitement and a disturbing kind of pleasure when the masked Death Eaters had sacrificed a Muggle-born wizard, cutting his throat and offering up his blood and life-force to Lord Voldemort. Snape had been sickened, though of course he had hid his reaction. Lyall Wilkes had been branded at that same ceremony as well, and Snape remembered that he had looked a little frightened, although like Snape, he had tried to conceal it. And that was Rosier's other crime, that he had convinced Lyall to join the Death Eaters, and had dragged his best friend down into darkness and death with him.

But Dylan was still waiting patiently for a reply. "Yes," said Snape wearily. "You may come back. But you must understand, things are very hectic now, with the students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons set to arrive soon."

"I understand, sir. Whenever you have a spare moment will be fine," Dylan said politely. Then he added, quietly and more sincerely, "Thank you, Professor Snape. It...it really meant a lot to me, you telling me about my father."

"You're welcome, Dylan," Snape found himself saying, surprising both himself and the boy. _Damn it all, is Lupin's goody-two-shoes attitude rubbing off on me?!_ He cleared his throat and said in his more normal, abrupt voice, "Run along now; you had better have that homework ready to turn in tomorrow if you wish to get a passing grade, Mr. Rosier."

"Yes, Professor! Don't worry, I will!" Then the boy was gone, the office door swinging shut behind him. Snape pulled up his sleeve and stared at the copper serpent bracelet on his wrist, a gift from Lupin last Christmas. Its tiny garnet eyes caught the firelight and flickered at him, looking almost alive. He stroked the cold metal of the bracelet, wishing that he had Lupin's faith in believing that the words "honor" and "Slytherin" were not incompatible. More than anything, he wanted Lupin's comforting arms around him right now, and he resolved to speak to the Headmaster as he had promised Lupin he would, and see about arranging to take a weekend off to visit his lover.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Triwizard Tournament begins, and Snape and Lupin steal a little time together over the Christmas holidays.

Snape asked for and received permission to leave the castle for a weekend, and only had to endure a wink and a "tell Remus I said hello" from the Headmaster. He took down a bottle of wine that had been gathering dust on his shelf since last Christmas (one of the many expensive but useless gifts he received from the parents of his students), and stopped by Hogsmeade on to pick up some dinner and a box of Honeydukes chocolates, then Apparated to Lupin's cottage. Lupin was flatteringly gratified to see him.

"Severus! I missed you so much!" Lupin said, giving Snape a hug and a long kiss. "You brought dinner? And wine and chocolates? Why, Severus Snape, you romantic devil!"

Snape laughed, feeling pleased and embarrassed at the same time. "Just don't tell anyone; you'll ruin my reputation!"

"It will be our little secret," said Lupin, giving him another kiss. "I doubt anyone would believe me, anyway!" But any embarrassment Snape felt was more than made up for by the look in Lupin's blue eyes, promising unspoken rewards for tonight's little romantic display. Snape collected that reward after dinner, both of them a little giddy from too much wine, or maybe it was just their delight in seeing each other after being separated for nearly two months. Just one glance into Lupin's eyes, filled with the wolf's hunger and the man's tenderness, was enough to make Snape feel intoxicated. There was no need for talk that night, save for wordless moans and a few whispered endearments.

The next day, their appetites sated for the moment, they were content to simply lounge around the cottage together. Snape was sprawled out on Lupin's couch, with Lupin snuggled contentedly against him, his head resting on Snape's chest.

"So how are things going at school, Severus?" Lupin asked. "Are you still worried about Malfoy and Rosier?"

Snape idly stroked Lupin's hair, almost as if he were petting the wolf. "Yes, but do we have to talk about such things now? This is supposed to be a chance for me to get away from school."

"Whatever you like, Severus. But you said in your letters that you wished you could discuss these things with me."

Snape sighed. "Malfoy is...Malfoy. It's too soon to tell if my little chat with him has made any difference. As for Mr. Rosier, he came to my office and wanted to talk about his father. I was able to dredge up a few harmless anecdotes, but I don't know how many more I can come up with. He idolizes his father, and to be honest, there aren't that many flattering things I can say about Evan Rosier."

"It's easy to idolize someone who is no longer with you," Lupin said softly. "Easy to build up an image of what you want them to be, when the person is no longer around to contradict that image with the harsh light of reality." _Like James,_ he thought but did not say aloud. Harry probably had an idealized picture of James in his head; certainly James had been a better man than Evan Rosier, but he had still had some faults that Harry would likely never be aware of. And Severus, too, had his own carefully built image of James, except he saw only the flaws, the arrogance and unthinking cruelty of a callow youth, and would never acknowledge James's good points, never see that he had matured into a wiser and more compassionate man. Lupin didn't know if his lover would ever be able to let go of that grudge, if those old wounds would ever be healed.

Fortunately, Snape didn't sense the direction Lupin's thoughts were taking; he was still occupied with thoughts of Dylan Rosier. "He worries me," Snape said. "That self-control I mentioned..."

"Does he remind you of yourself, Severus?" Lupin asked quietly.

"A little," Snape admitted. "But he's far more smooth and charming than I ever was. He has girls from all four Houses sighing and drooling over him; it's quite disgusting, really." Lupin snickered and Snape smiled just a little. "He doesn't ooze the same sort of malice Lucius used to, though. And his self-control is not as good as mine was; he gets all boyishly vulnerable and puppy-dog eyed when he talks about his father."

"It sounds as if there is hope for him yet, Severus."

"If I encourage him to idolize his father, he'll likely take the same path Evan did and become a Death Eater. But if I tell him what his father was really like, most likely he'll turn against me and not listen to anything I say. And if he tells Draco, and Draco tells his father..."

"We talked about Evan and Lyall during the summer, Severus, and you spoke with compassion although you did not approve of what they did. Can you show that same compassion to Dylan? Can you help him see his father in a more realistic light without making it seem as if you're trying to turn him against Evan?"

Snape was silent for a moment. "I don't know. I'm not good with words. I'm not good with children. And it might already be too late. I don't know what Ariane has taught him, I don't know how deeply involved she was with the Death Eaters. He and Malfoy might already be a lost cause."

"What made the difference with you, Severus?" Lupin asked patiently. Severus was trying to squirm out of having to make an effort to befriend the Slytherin boys, but Lupin knew his conscience wouldn't really let him abandon them. "What kept you from becoming a Lucius Malfoy?"

"Dumbledore, I suppose. And you."

"I am not there. And while Dumbledore cares about all his students, he does not have time to personally befriend each one. These children have only you, Severus. You will have to make the difference."

Snape groaned. "Then it's a lost cause!"

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Severus!" Lupin said with a touch of impatience. "You are their Head of House; it is your duty to see to their well-being, remember?" In a gentler tone he said, "I have faith in you, Severus. I know you can do it. I will help you and support you as much as I can."

Snape pulled Lupin close and sighed. "I'll try. I wish I had as much faith in myself--and the children--as you did. Most people don't think Slytherins are worth saving, you know. You should hear the way people from other Houses talk about us being 'born bad'."

"I believe in honorable Slytherins, because one of them is my lover," Lupin replied with a smile. He lifted Snape's hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly, then pushed back his sleeve and kissed the serpent bracelet and the Dark Mark. "I love you, Severus."

Snape never tired of hearing those words. "I love you, too, Remus," he replied softly. He still was not sure if he could save his Slytherins from Voldemort, but with Lupin's love and support he felt strong enough to try.

*** 

The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang arrived. Unlike most of the staff and students, Snape was less than thrilled. It was chaos around the school, disrupting his routine and making the students unruly as well. He also had no desire to see his former comrade Karkaroff; Snape avoided him as much as he possibly could. The names of the champions were drawn from the Goblet of Fire, and things seemed to be going as planned until the Goblet spat out a fourth name--Harry Potter. Potter! Snape ground his teeth together. How had the little brat pulled that off?! But he had no doubt that it was the boy's doing, despite Potter's protests of innocence, because it was exactly the kind of thing James would have done. And gotten away with it too, no doubt, the golden boy of Gryffindor...

"We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out the younger contestants, Dumbledore," Karkaroff was complaining.

"It's no one's fault but Potter's, Karkaroff," said Snape softly, glaring at Potter. "Don't go blaming Dumbledore for Potter's determination to break rules. He has been crossing the line ever since he arrived here--"

"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore said firmly, though his tone was anything but thankful, and Snape fell quiet, glaring at him sullenly. Of course he was going to take Potter's side; why should anything have changed in the last twenty years?

Dumbledore asked Potter if he had put his name into the Goblet, and of course Potter denied it. Snape gave a little snort of disbelief, but of course no one paid any attention to him.

McGonagall defended the Headmaster against Karkaroff's and Maxime's disparaging remarks, and shot Snape an angry look for good measure as she said, "Harry could not have crossed the line himself, and as Professor Dumbledore believes he did not persuade an older student to do it for him, I'm sure that should be good enough for everybody else!" But of course she was Head of Gryffindor and would naturally defend the little golden boy. Everyone else thought Potter was a hero, but Snape could see him for what he really was: an arrogant glory-seeker like his father. For once, Snape was happy that Lupin was not here, for he would undoubtedly defend the boy and tell Snape he was being unreasonable. Snape did not want to be reasonable; he wanted to be free to detest the boy as much as he pleased without his lover nagging at his conscience.

Then Moody started spouting off about how someone must have snuck Potter's name into the Goblet in an effort to get him killed. It was mere paranoia, of course, but Moody said, "It's my job to think the way Dark Wizards do, Karkaroff--as you ought to remember..." Although he was talking to Karkaroff, Moody's blue eye rolled over in Snape's direction as well.

"Alastor!" Dumbledore said warningly, and Moody fell silent. And somehow, over all the protests, it became settled that Harry Potter would compete in the Triwizard Tournament. Snape was furious; he felt his hands clenching into fists. He didn't know why it should bother him so much, that the boy had weasled his way into the Tournament. Maybe it was the sneaking suspicion that Potter would probably win it, against all odds. He was tired of seeing Potters heaped in glory, breaking the rules and being rewarded for it, getting away with everything. No one had ever made such allowances for Snape, or for the Slytherins in general. Along with the need to appear to be a sympathizer of the Dark Wizards, that was why he favored his own students--because no one else ever would. If the Headmaster and the other Heads of House were going to indulge in playing favorites, then why should Snape not do the same?

And Snape was tired, so tired, of seeing Potter get whatever he wanted. For a moment the images of James and Harry blurred in his head, and he wasn't sure which one he meant. Everything had seemed to come so easily to James; he was already blessed with looks, money, and a loving family when he had arrived at Hogwarts. And he'd quickly become the top-marked student, the star Quidditch player, and gained the adulation of both teachers and students. Sometimes Snape had been so jealous of Potter that he could hardly stand it. Snape's family was wealthy and powerful, but cold to him. He had a certain amount of status in Slytherin House--as long as he catered to Lucius Malfoy--but nobody really liked him; he'd had no real friends. He was ill-tempered and ugly--greasy-haired and beaky-nosed, as Potter and his friends constantly reminded him. All that was bad enough, but what had really turned Snape against Potter, what he had really hated him for, was Dumbledore and Lupin. The Headmaster had been the only person who had ever shown Snape any affection, but he had been shunted aside in favor of Potter; no matter what the old man said, it was clear that he favored Potter and the Gryffindors over Snape and the Slytherins. And Lupin--he couldn't really say Potter had stolen Lupin from him, because Lupin had never been his to begin with. Snape had tried to convince himself that he hated the quiet Gryffindor boy, but followed him around relentlessly, secretly longing for those little, apologetic smiles Lupin gave him when Potter and the others were taunting him. It ate away at him inside, that Lupin could never be his friend; from those little smiles Lupin gave him, Snape thought the other boy might have befriended him if he were free to. But he was not free to, because Potter would never allow him to befriend a Slytherin, and who would be insane enough to give up the friendship of the golden boy for likes of Snape? And Snape hated Potter for that.

Then a miracle had happened and Lupin had become his friend after all, and even more miraculously, his lover! They'd had to keep it a secret from the golden boy--and Malfoy, of course--but Snape hadn't cared. He was happy just to have Lupin at all. Then Potter and Black had taken even those few precious, stolen moments he and Lupin shared by sending him to the Shrieking Shack on the night of the full moon. Snape was still consumed with hatred whenever he thought about it, even though the rational part of his mind knew that it was partly his fault for refusing to forgive Lupin or even hear him out at the time. Snape had lost the only person he had ever loved, the only person who had ever loved him back, and Potter went on to have the perfect life, the perfect wife, the perfect marriage. Lily Evans had been all right for a Muggle-born; she had even stood up to Potter for Snape's sake once, although he had certainly never thanked her for it. If he had let a Mudblood girl rescue him from Potter, he would have been laughed out of Slytherin House. But he'd never forgotten what she had done, and he had been angry and disgusted when she took up with that worthless bastard Potter. And furious that Potter got to live happily ever after with his true love when Snape had lost his.

_Except that he didn't live happily ever after,_ Snape's inner voice reminded him. _He was killed, remember, by your Master, while his perfect marriage was still new, and his son still a baby._ But even in death, Potter had thwarted him, dying and leaving Snape in his debt, forcing Snape to watch over his son in an effort to repay that debt. 

_James is dead, and Lupin is yours now,_ the voice said, but that didn't comfort Snape as much as it should have. He kept thinking of the nearly twenty years they had been parted, and how lonely and bitter those years had been. 

Snape went back to his quarters. More than anything, he wanted to see Lupin and be reassured by his loving presence, but he had no time right now to sneak off and visit his lover. Then he had an idea; he went to his dungeon workroom, and lit a fire in a small charcoal brazier. The fireplace would be better for his purposes, but there would be less chance of being spied on this way. He grabbed a fistful of powder from a nearby jar and threw it on the flames. They flared up high with a sizzling sound, and took on a green tinge. "Lupin," Snape called into the flames. "Lupin, can you hear me?"

For a moment, he thought the spell had failed, but then Lupin's face appeared in the flames. "Severus?" he asked anxiously. "Are you all right? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Snape said, feeling foolish now. Lupin would want to know why he'd gone to the trouble of making direct contact, and how could he tell Lupin that he wanted to be reassured because he was feeling jealous of Lupin's dead best friend? "I just...I just wanted to talk to you."

"Oh," Lupin said, still looking puzzled and concerned. "Has something happened?"

"The Goblet of Fire chose three champions, one from each school. And then a fourth--Harry Potter."

"Harry?!" Lupin exclaimed. "How could that happen?"

Snape scowled. "Nobody knows. I can't figure out how he did it myself."

"Harry put his name in, even though it was forbidden?" Lupin sounded startled.

"Well, of course he denied it!" Snape snapped. "But it's the sort of thing he would do; it's the sort of thing his father would do!" His voice had turned sharp and shrill. 

_Maybe this was not such a good idea..._ said Snape's inner voice.

"Why did you contact me like this instead of just writing to me, Severus?" Lupin asked softly. "There's not much I can do from here. Is anyone hurt?"

"No," muttered Snape. This really had been a bad idea, after all. "Though Moody thinks someone deliberately put Potter's name in the Goblet in an attempt to kill him. The Tournaments traditionally being dangerous and all."

"Well, Moody's a bit paranoid," Lupin said. "Although I guess it is a possibility that someone might try to arrange an 'accident' to befall Harry. Seems kind of a roundabout way to get to him, though. But you still haven't answered my question, Severus. Why did you call me?"

Snape hung his head. "I don't know," he muttered. "I just missed you, I guess."

Now Lupin really began to look alarmed. "Severus! What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry," Snape said, trying to twist his lips into a smile without much success. "I didn't mean to worry you. I was just...brooding about the past, I suppose."

"Severus," Lupin said gently. "I'm sorry I can't be there with you now. But I love you, very much. I'm happy to listen, if you just want to talk."

Snape sighed, feeling the knot in his heart loosen slightly. "That's all I really wanted to hear," he admitted in a whisper. "That you love me."

"Oh, Severus," Lupin whispered, his eyes filled with tenderness, but still looking a little worried. "Of course I love you. No matter how far away you are, you are always in my heart." He reached out with one hand, as if trying to touch Snape through the flames.

Snape reached out and held his own hand just above the flames, not quite touching Lupin's. "Thank you, Remus. I'm sorry if I made you worry. I'm all right now."

"Well...if you're sure," Lupin said, not looking convinced. "But write to me, and tell me everything that's happened. And...maybe you could get away from school for another weekend?"

"I'll try," Snape said, able to manage a real, if small, smile now. "And Remus...?"

"Yes, Severus?"

"I...I love you."

Lupin smiled at him through the flames. "I love you, too," he said, and then Snape broke the spell, and the flames vanished, dying down into a pile of ashes.

*** 

There was a commotion going on outside his classroom when Snape arrived to teach his fourth-year Potions class. Potter and Malfoy seemed to be at the core of it. Of course. Snape scowled; he was not in a good mood to begin with, still annoyed that he couldn't figure out how Potter had fooled the Goblet, and now it seemed his day was only going to get worse. "And what is all this noise about?" he asked in a soft, deadly voice. The children began clamoring to give their sides of the story. He pointed a finger at Malfoy and said curtly, "Explain."

"Potter attacked me, sir--"

"We attacked each other at the same time!" Potter protested.

"--and he hit Goyle--look--"

Snape briefly examined Goyle, whose face now bore a remarkable resemblance to a poisonous toadstool. It didn't much affect his looks though; if anything, it might even be a slight improvement... "Hospital wing, Goyle," Snape said calmly.

"Malfoy got Hermione," said Weasley, pushing the girl forward. "Look!" Granger was trying to hide her teeth behind her hands, but they had already grown down past her collar.

"I see no difference," Snape said coldly. Granger whimpered, her eyes filled with tears, and she turned on her heel and ran down the corridor.

_Well, that was rather petty,_ Snape's inner voice said in a disapproving tone.

_Oh, shut up!_ he told it. When had his inner voice started to sound like Lupin? The werewolf's attitude WAS starting to rub off on him! _I will be as petty as I damn well please!_ he told the voice.

_You're talking to yourself again,_ it pointed out, sounding almost amused, and again, remarkably like Lupin.

Snape almost started to argue with it, but realized he would only be proving its point. Meanwhile, Potter and Weasley were shouting at him furiously. Their two voices shouting over each other, along with the echoes of the dungeon corridor, prevented him from making out their exact words, but he got the gist of it. "Let's see," he said in his silkiest voice. "Fifty points from Gryffindor and a detention each for Potter and Weasley. Now get inside, or it'll be a week's worth of detentions." The two boys slunk into the classroom, shaking with anger, and suddenly Snape felt much better. _How's that for petty?_ he taunted his inner voice, but this time it remained silent. He saw Potter glaring at him from the back of the room, with a "if looks could kill" expression on his face.

"Antidotes!" snapped Snape. "You should all have prepared your recipes by now. I want you to brew them carefully, and then, we will be selecting someone on whom to test one..." Snape's eyes met Potter's, and he smiled, just the slightest bit; they both knew whom Snape had chosen as his guinea pig. Of course he had a selection of real antidotes on hand in case the students had not brewed theirs correctly, and he wouldn't really let the boy die...just let him squirm and suffer a little before he administered it. Maybe he would try Longbottom's antidote on Potter...the thought gave him a bitter surge of pleasure. Then again, he didn't REALLY want to kill the boy...

A knock on the dungeon door interrupted Snape's thoughts. Colin Creevey opened the door a crack and edged into the room, giving Potter a smile, then walked up to Snape's desk. "Yes?" asked Snape curtly.   "Please, sir, I'm supposed to take Harry Potter upstairs."

Snape stared down at the boy, scowling, and watched the smile fade from Creevey's face. "Potter has another hour of Potions to complete," he said coldly. "He will come upstairs when this class is finished."

"Sir--sir, Mr. Bagman wants him," Creevey said nervously. "All the champions have got to go, I think they want to take their photographs..."

Snape's brief good mood was rapidly dissipating. "Very well, very well," Snape snapped. "Potter, leave your things here, I want you back down here later to test your antidote."

"Please, sir--he's got to take his things with him. All the champions--"

"Very WELL!" shouted Snape, losing his temper. "Potter--take your bag and get out of my sight!" He watched the boy grab his bags and run out the door, and the sight of Malfoy's "POTTER STINKS" badges didn't comfort him one bit.

*** 

Things only got worse from there on. Potter passed the first test with ease--Lupin would no doubt be thrilled--and was tied in first place with Krum. The dragon nicked Potter with its tail, but it was only a flesh wound, and probably only served to make him more of a hero to the Gryffindors. Snape left as soon the judges gave their scores; he had no desire to stay and watch everyone fawn over Potter.

He managed to sneak in one more weekend with Lupin, but that was the last time he was able to get away for the rest of the term. He was kept very busy with his classes and brewing healing salves and potions for the upcoming Tasks, in case any of the precious champions injured themselves. But worst of all, the Mark on his arm was gradually becoming darker and clearer. He tried to pretend at first that it was just his imagination, but finally it became dark enough that he could no longer lie to himself. And Karkaroff was clearly nervous, and kept trying to corner Snape and talk to him about it--as if that would do any good! He had despised Karkaroff when they had been Death Eaters, and Snape didn't like him any better now.

Someone knocked on the door of his dungeon workshop and he snapped, "What is it?!" 

Dylan Rosier cautiously opened the door and peered around it. "Er...do you have a minute to talk, Professor?"

Snape looked up from the cauldron he was stirring and said in a brusque voice, "As you can see, Rosier, I'm rather busy at the moment. I don't have time right now to make chitchat about the old days."

If Rosier was frightened or offended by his tone of voice, he didn't show it. He just said calmly, "Then is there anything I can do to help, sir?"

"Um...well...yes, I suppose so," said Snape, momentarily disarmed by the unexpected offer. He set the boy to work chopping ingredients, and he worked quickly and efficiently, as he always did in class. Although he looked somewhat like his father, he behaved nothing like him; Evan had never been as quiet, studious, and obedient as Dylan. They worked in silence for awhile, but he kept hearing Lupin's and Dumbledore's voices in his head, nagging at him to "befriend" the boy. He cleared his throat and said a little awkwardly, "So...how are you getting along in your classes, Mr. Rosier?"

"All right, sir. I've kept up with my homework, and my grades so far seem to be good."

That was an understatement; he was at the top of his Potions class, with no need for any favoritism from Snape, and he seemed to be doing well in all his other classes. Flitwick had happily told Snape that Dylan was doing quite well in his class, and that he was "a real natural at Charms, just like his mother". But then, Flitwick had always been fond of Ariane, for some reason. "Staying out of trouble, I hope?" Snape asked, although he had been watching the boy carefully and seen no sign of it, and none of the other teachers, not even Moody, had complained to Snape about him.

"Yes, sir."

"You haven't let Mr. Malfoy talk you into joining him in any mischief?"

"No, sir. Well...except for this..." Dylan tapped his "POTTER STINKS" badge, almost entirely hidden by the folds of his robe. "I didn't want to offend Draco, but I didn't want to offend the other students either, so I sort of tried to compromise."

"Clever," Snape said, giving the boy a grudging smile. "You are getting along with the students from the other Houses, then?"

"I try to," Dylan said. "I get along with the Ravenclaws and the Hufflepuffs okay, but the Gryffindors don't like me. Except for the girls," he added with a rakish grin.

"It seems you are your father's son," Snape said dryly. "All well and good, but do try to be a little more circumspect than he was."

"Yes, sir." Dylan was quiet for a moment as he continued to chop roots and herbs, then asked, "Professor Snape?"

"Yes?" asked Snape, as continued to stir the potion in the cauldron.

"Why do all the other Houses hate the Slytherins so much?" Snape was a little startled by Dylan's question, but didn't reply. "I mean, my father was from a pureblood family of wealth and distinction. When he met my mother he hadn't yet joined the Death--"

"Don't talk about such things here!" shouted Snape, slamming the spoon he'd been using down on the table, and Dylan jumped. "Leave them in the past! Didn't I just tell you to be circumspect? Didn't I warn you at the start of term that your behavior must be beyond reproach?"

"Yes, sir, I'm sorry, sir," Dylan said hastily, turning a little pale. Then he gathered up his courage and continued, "But why was my mother's family so opposed to him when he...um...hadn't yet done anything wrong?"

Snape calmed down a little and sighed wearily. "Because many of us have sought to expand our knowledge beyond the bounds of what is considered safe and appropriate, because many prominent Slytherins have indeed turned out to be Dark Wizards, the rest of the world mistrusts us. 'Bad blood', they say," Snape said sourly, recalling Hagrid's words at the hearing. Of course Snape and his classmates had done little to refute that image... 

"That's not fair," muttered Dylan under his breath, but Snape overheard him.

"The world is not fair, Mr. Rosier," Snape said coldly. Where on earth did these children get the idea that the world was supposed to be "fair"? He would expect such idealistic nonsense from the Gryffindors, but not from the Slytherins. _If the world were fair, Black would be in Azkaban, and Lupin and I would have been together these past twenty years..._ "The sooner you realize that, the better off you will be."

"Yes, sir," mumbled Dylan.

Belatedly, Snape realized that his little speech probably wasn't doing much to steer Dylan away from the Death Eater track. He paused to gather his thoughts, then said in a gentler voice, "I don't know if things would have turned out differently for your parents if the world viewed Slytherins in a different light. I do know that a great many people, including most of your mother's family, are waiting for you to fail. Make a success of yourself and prove them wrong." Dylan looked a little more hopeful at that. "You are doing well, so far. Keep up the good work, and don't ruin it by doing anything foolish, do you understand me, Dylan?"

"Yes, Professor."

"Good. Now, if you're finished chopping those roots, put them in this cauldron, and we'll start a new batch of healing potion..."

*** 

Dylan left the dungeon feeling very pleased with himself. He had enjoyed working on the healing potion, and he knew he must be doing better than "all right" in Potions class if Snape trusted him to work on a potion that would actually be used on someone other than his classmates. He was a little surprised to discover how much Snape's good opinion mattered to him. And he had learned a couple of interesting tidbits: the first was that this was the second time Snape had warned him about Draco Malfoy. Perhaps he wasn't as much Lucius Malfoy's lapdog as everyone thought. His mother would find that very interesting, but he couldn't put that in a letter for fear of it being intercepted; it would have to wait until he saw her in person. And second, Snape had grown quite agitated when Dylan had brought up the subject of Death Eaters. He seemed afraid that someone might overhear them, but was he worried about Dylan's reputation--or his own? Dylan wondered where Snape's real loyalties lay...if he was still a Death Eater, or if he had truly renounced the Dark Lord. Ariane seemed to think Snape's loyalties lay solely with himself; if had repented merely to save his life, what would he do if and when the Dark Lord returned? And was he really trying to push Dylan away from the Dark Arts and the Death Eaters, or was he just biding his time, waiting to see if Dylan was a worthy candidate...?

"Um...Dylan?" a girl's voice said hesitantly, breaking into his thoughts. He turned around to see Lisa Turpin, a Ravenclaw girl who was a year ahead of him. They didn't share any classes together, of course, but they had grown somewhat friendly over the past few months. She had sought him out and talked to him because their mothers had been friends at school. She was a quiet and serious girl, like most Ravenclaws, and was very pretty, with shoulder-length blonde hair and green eyes.

"Oh, hi Lisa," said Dylan. "What's up?"

"Um," she said again, blushing slightly. "I was just wondering if...well...if maybe you'd like to go to the Yule Ball with me?"

"Oh!" Dylan exclaimed in surprise. He was a third-year, so he had not expected to be able to attend the Ball, since it was open only to fourth-years on up. But younger students were allowed to go if an older student invited them. He quickly regained his composure and said, "I would love to! Thank you very much for asking me."

She smiled at him, face still pink but looking relieved. "That's great, then! Um...well, I'll see you around then, Dylan."

"See you around, Lisa." Dylan smiled to himself as she hurried on her way, remembering Snape's words: "It seems you are your father's son." _What do you think of that, Dad? Are you pleased that I have your touch with the ladies?_

 

Gossip spread quickly around the school, and Draco Malfoy was not pleased to hear that Dylan would be attending the Ball with a Ravenclaw. "How dare you escort a girl from another House, Rosier?" he snarled one day as they sat in the Great Hall at dinner.

Dylan stared at him wide-eyed, feigning innocence. "I didn't know anyone would be upset about it. I wasn't planning to attend the Ball, but Lisa asked me out of the blue and I thought it would be fun to go. After all, unless I go with her, I won't be able to attend a Ball till next year--"

"What's wrong with a Slytherin girl?" Pansy Parkinson snapped. "Not good enough for you?"

"Of course I would have gone with a Slytherin girl--if anyone had asked me," Dylan said calmly, in that same innocent voice, as if he couldn't understand why his housemates were offended. "It wouldn't be proper for me to ask anyone, since as a third-year I'm not really allowed to attend on my own."

The Slytherin girls looked furious that they hadn't thought of asking him first. "It's not proper for a girl to ask a boy to the Ball!" Pansy said in a huffy tone. "That Turpin girl must be a real hussy!"

Dylan just smiled. "Lisa's mother was a friend of my mother's," he said mildly. "I didn't think it would be a big deal."

"Well, it IS a big deal, Rosier!" said Malfoy. "You should have cleared it with me, I'm in charge of Slytherin House--"

"That's strange, Mr. Malfoy," said a cold and very familiar voice behind them. "I was under the impression that I was the Head of Slytherin House."

Malfoy turned around to see Professor Snape standing behind him, hovering over him like a giant bat, the folds of his voluminous black robe hanging from his shoulders like wings. Dylan was very impressed; he was almost as good at sneaking up on people as Moody was, even without a magical eye.

"Of course you are, Professor!" Malfoy said hastily, turning pale. "I--I just meant, that I, uh, take it upon myself to make sure the younger students behave themselves...to...to make things easier for you, of course!"

"Of course," Snape said in that cold voice, his black eyes boring into Malfoy's pale ones like daggers. Malfoy squirmed in his seat, looking terrified.

Dylan had never seen Malfoy look so rattled--at least not since Moody had turned him into a ferret--and he was quite enjoying it. But he knew Draco would blame him for it unless he did something to intervene. "It's my fault, Professor," he said in a humble voice. 

Snape's gaze turned to Dylan, and Malfoy looked extremely relieved. "Oh?" asked Snape, raising an eyebrow.

"Being inexperienced, I seem to have committed a breach of etiquette that could have been avoided, if I had sought the advice of one of the older students," Dylan said. He gave Malfoy a placating smile. "Next time, I'll seek out Draco's counsel first."

"And this great breach of etiquette is...?" Snape asked sardonically.

"He's taking a Ravenclaw girl to the Ball!" Pansy said indignantly.

"Oh for Merlin's sake!" said Snape, sounding disgusted. "All this fuss over a silly dance! I have a great deal of work to do--unlike the rest of you, it seems--and I don't have time to be bothered with such trivial nonsense! Is that clear?"

"Yes, Professor," the Slytherins mumbled, and Snape swept off, his black robes billowing around him. Draco sulked, but dropped the matter, and Dylan was careful to be very respectful and deferential towards him for the next few days.

*** 

Snape was in a very foul mood as the holidays drew near. He had planned to spend the holidays with Lupin, but with the Ball and the Tournament and all the extra students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, the Headmaster had asked all the teachers to remain behind and help with the planning and chaperoning. And that little twit Malfoy, preening and claiming to be in charge of Slytherin House! Snape let him get away with a great deal, for Lucius's sake, but he could not let a remark like that pass. He had put the fear of God into Mr. Malfoy, although Dylan had quickly smoothed things over. All the fuss, it turned out, was over Dylan and some Ravenclaw girl--he was indeed his father's son! Snape wasn't sure whether to be annoyed or amused.

But he absolutely could not let Christmas pass without seeing Lupin at least once. So, with the Headmaster's permission, he made elaborate plans to sneak Lupin into the castle for Christmas. Lupin would Apparate to Hogsmeade and wait in the Shrieking Shack. Snape would give Lupin an invisibility potion--which was extremely difficult and time-consuming to make; it was a pity he couldn't simply borrow Potter's cloak--and then sneak Lupin down the secret tunnel and into his quarters. He tried not to think about the fact that this was the sort of stupid, complicated, reckless stunt the Marauders would have pulled, and Lupin kindly refrained from pointing it out to him.

*** 

Dylan's mother was a little disappointed that he would not be coming home for Christmas, but she was delighted that he had been invited to the Yule Ball. "You are your father's son, Dylan!" she wrote in a letter. "Didn't I tell you that you would be breaking hearts at school?" Uncle Math and Aunt Goewin wrote that they loved him, and that they were happy he was making friends. The three of them sent him an early Christmas present: a set of new dress robes to wear to the Ball; they were silvery-gray, with a subtle sheen to the cloth that seemed to reflect the color of his eyes, making them look more silver than gray. There was also a silver clasp in the shape of a feather to tie back his hair, and a matching cloak pin to fasten his robes at the throat. He couldn't keep from admiring himself in the mirror for a minute or two, until his roommate and friend--a real friend, one he liked instead of just tolerated--Damien Pierce laughed at him.

"Oh, stop that, you peacock!" said Damien, a handsome enough boy himself, with dark auburn hair and a sly smile. "Everyone knows you're the most beautiful student in Slytherin House, including the girls!" But his teasing was good-natured; Damien grinned and said, "I wish I had older women throwing themselves at my feet!"

 

Dylan entered the Great Hall with Lisa Turpin on his arm; she looked quite lovely herself, in blue-green robes, with just a touch of frothy lace at the wrists and neck creating the illusion of foam on waves. He knew he was being vain, but he felt a little smug, knowing that they made a handsome couple. He drew a number of envious stares, including one from Draco. As he passed by the Tournament champions, who were stationed near the doors, he saw Hermione Granger standing next to Viktor Krum, and his mouth dropped open. She looked absolutely stunning--her bushy hair had been tamed into something sleek and shiny, twisted up in an elegant knot at the back of her head, and she was wearing robes made of a floaty, periwinkle-blue material. Maybe it was merely the absence of the huge stack of books she always carried around, but she carried herself differently tonight, with an air of grace and dignity. 

He soon noticed that Lisa was frowning at him, and he quickly turned his attention back to her, giving her his most charming smile, and said, "Your dress is so lovely; it really brings out the green in your eyes." Her frown faded, and she beamed at him. Dylan continued making small talk as they made their way to their table, but he was still a little distracted, although he was careful to hide it. He had never thought Hermione was ugly, but neither had he thought she could look so beautiful--how could a different hairstyle and a pretty dress make so much difference? Her teeth were smaller and more even after being treated for the misfired curse, but it hadn't been her teeth that had made Dylan's jaw drop. Whatever it was, all the other students noticed it, particularly the boys; even Malfoy looked for a moment like he had forgotten that Hermione was a "filthy Mudblood".

Dylan enjoyed himself immensely at the Ball. He wished he had the courage to ask Hermione for a dance, but he knew Malfoy would never forgive him, and Lisa probably wouldn't be too thrilled, either. But he did enjoy Lisa's company, and had a good time dancing with her. Even the teachers seemed to relax and enjoy themselves a little; Dumbledore danced with Madame Maxime and Professor McGonagall, and Mad-Eye Moody, of all people, danced with Professor Sinistra. Professor Snape did not dance with anyone, though; he just sat at the teachers' table looking even more sour than usual. When Dylan happened to glance that way again about halfway through the Ball, Snape was gone.

*** 

Snape slipped away from the teachers' table, intending to sneak off to his quarters and join Lupin, but Karkaroff followed him and would not leave him alone, so they went out in the garden to talk. "I don't see what there is to fuss about, Igor," he said impatiently.

"Severus, you cannot pretend this isn't happening!" Karkaroff said in a hushed and anxious voice. "It's been getting clearer and clearer for months. I am becoming seriously concerned, I can't deny it--"

"Then flee," said Snape curtly. "Flee--I will make your excuses. I, however, am remaining at Hogwarts." In between talking to Karkaroff, Snape chased amorous students out of the rose bushes. He was feeling rather testy right now, and if he couldn't be with his lover, he wasn't going to let anyone else have a good time, either. He pointed his wand at a rosebush and blasted it apart. "Ten points from Ravenclaw, Fawcett!" he snapped as a girl ran past him. "And ten points from Hufflepuff too, Stebbins!" he added as a boy rushed after her. Just then, he caught sight of Potter and Weasley walking on the path ahead of them. "And what are you two doing?" he snapped.

"We're walking," said Weasley in a snippy tone. "Not against the law, is it?"

Snape was tempted to take points off Gryffindor for that, but he was in a hurry to get rid of Karkaroff and get back to his quarters. "Keep walking, then!" he snarled and brushed past them as Karkaroff hurried after him.

"Severus, what are we going to do?" 

"I've already told you what I intend to do," Snape said coldly. "I don't really give a damn what you do, Igor. Run away if you want, for all the good it will do."

"Don't you think the Dark Lord will be angry at us when he returns--" Karkaroff began to ask in that same hushed tone.

"Don't mention that name where the students might overhear you!" Snape hissed. "Those two brats we just ran into were already looking at us suspiciously. Do you want people to start talking about conspiracies--?"

"I'm more worried about one person in particular," Karkaroff said darkly. 

"Well, I value my job even if you don't," said Snape. "And I don't know what you expect me to do for you, anyway. As I said, if you want to flee, I'll cover for you, but that's all I can do. Now get back to the Hall before people start wondering why we're walking through the garden together!" He added with a sneer, "I doubt anyone will believe we wanted to enjoy a moonlit stroll together." He noticed the leaves of another rosebush twitching slightly, and blasted it apart, as another couple squealed and ran away. "TWENTY points off Gryffindor, Smith and Connolly!"

Karkaroff stared at him sullenly for a moment, then turned and walked back to the castle. When Snape was sure he had really gone, he headed back to the castle in a different direction, and hurried to his quarters.

*** 

Lupin was sitting beside the fireplace, reading a book. An empty plate and a half-empty glass of wine sat on the table beside him; Snape had smuggled in some food for Lupin since he knew he wouldn't be able to get back until after dinner. "Severus!" Lupin exclaimed with delight, jumping up to throw his arms around Snape when he walked into the room.

"Merry Christmas, Lupin," Snape said, hugging him back. God, it felt good to have Lupin in his arms again! "Sorry I took so long, Karkaroff wouldn't leave me alone. You must have been bored."

"I'm just happy that I'm able to spend Christmas with you," Lupin said, giving him a kiss. "Shall we exchange presents now?"

Snape gave Lupin a new set of robes--midnight blue, this time--and a brooch shaped like a wolf's head, with tiny blue sapphires for eyes. Lupin seemed quite pleased with his gifts; he tried on the robe and pinned the brooch at his throat, then spun around playfully, letting the robe billow out around him. "So what do you think?" Lupin asked.

Snape thought he looked gorgeous. "I'd say it's the gift that keeps on giving, because I think I'm enjoying it as much as you are," he said with a grin.

"Why Severus Snape, you sweet-talker!" laughed Lupin. "Here are your presents." Lupin gave him a box of chocolates and a wood carving he must have done himself. It was serpent that looked quite lifelike, as if a real animal had been frozen in the act of raising its head up above its coiled body. Every scale on its body was carved in detail, and its eyes had a wise, somehow amused look about them. 

"It's beautiful, Lupin," said Snape sincerely. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Lupin said, smiling. "I started carving again, after I helped Miyako with the fox carvings during the summer. Oh, and I have a surprise for you." 

"What is it?" Snape asked suspiciously, because there was a mischievous twinkle in Lupin's blue eyes.

Lupin brought out a small mahogany box--a jewelry box perhaps? The workmanship was nice, but it was little gaudy for Snape's taste; the cover of the box was set with numerous semiprecious stones in various colors. Lupin touched one of the stones, then opened the lid, and it began playing music, not just the tinny strains of a normal music box, but the sound of a full orchestra. He closed the lid and the music stopped, then touched another stone and opened it again. This time it played a different song, one that sounded rather like the Weird Sisters group that had been playing at the Ball.

"An old classmate of mine is an inventor," Lupin said. "He sent me this sample model; it's just come out on the market, but I hear it's all the rage. He got the idea from those cd player things the Muggles use. You can hear your favorite song anytime you want; each stone is enchanted to hold a different song. You can take the stones out and exchange them for new ones too, if you want."

"Clever," said Snape, mildly impressed.

Lupin set another song to play, a traditional waltz this time, and bowed to Snape with a courtly flourish. "May I have this dance, sir?"

Snape scowled at him. "You must be joking."

"No, I'm not, Severus." Snape crossed his arms over his chest, still scowling, and clearly didn't intend to budge from his seat. "Oh, come on, Severus," Lupin said in a wheedling tone. "After all, you were down at the Ball having fun--"

"I assure you, Lupin, I was NOT having fun!"

"--while I was stuck up here, all alone for the past few hours, not to mention the time I spent waiting in the Shrieking Shack for you." Lupin sighed dramatically.

"Oh, very well," Snape said, giving in with ill grace. He could see Lupin wasn't going to let up until he got his way, and he did feel a little guilty about Lupin having to wait for him so long. He rose from his chair, and put one arm around Lupin's waist and held Lupin's hand with the other. He moved a little stiffly, letting Lupin push and pull him around the room while he concentrated on not stepping on Lupin's feet.

"Relax, Severus," said Lupin. "It's just the two of us, after all. No one's going to see or care if you make a fool of yourself."

"That's very reassuring," Snape said sourly, but after a couple of minutes he did begin to relax a little. His mother had drilled him in etiquette years ago as a child, and one of his least favorite lessons had been dance lessons. However, in their social circles, it was inevitable that one would be called upon to dance at some ball or party, and so Snape had learned to dance, like it or not. He had never really been good at it, but had learned enough not to embarrass himself, and he found the old lessons coming back to him. It helped that the song was an old and traditional one, played at many formal balls, and he found himself moving through the steps more easily. Lupin smiled and moved closer to him, and Snape almost began to enjoy himself. The sensation of Lupin in his arms was a pleasant one, and once Snape felt confident that he wouldn't trod on Lupin's feet, he was able to lift his eyes from the floor and watch Lupin. His werewolf lover was light and graceful on his feet, and he looked very beautiful, a contented smile on his face, the firelight casting a glow on his golden-brown hair.

Snape was almost disappointed when the waltz ended, so he did not object when Lupin set the music box to play another song, and the melancholy strains of the old ballad "Greensleeves" began playing. "This is one of my favorite songs," Lupin murmured.

It was a version Snape had never heard before, with an intricate guitar arrangement and a female singer who had a lovely, haunting voice. It was slightly more fast-paced than the versions Snape was familiar with, and he was concentrating on following the rhythm of the music, so it was a little while before he noticed that Lupin was singing along softly:

"Alas my love, ye do me wrong  
To cast me out discourteously  
And I have loved you for so long  
Delighting in your company..."

For one paranoid moment, Snape wondered if this was some sort of subtle dig at him, at the fact that he had wronged Lupin nineteen years ago by casting him aside after seeing his transformation in the Shrieking Shack. It was after all, a song about a lover's betrayal...but no. There was nothing on Lupin's face but innocent pleasure; he was merely singing along with a favorite song. Snape sighed in relief; he should have known better. It was not really in Lupin's nature to hold a grudge--that was more Snape's style. So he relaxed, pulling Lupin a little closer to him, and lost himself in the dance and the music. Lupin continued to sing, his voice blending in nicely with the female vocalist:

"Greensleeves was all my joy  
Greensleeves was my delight  
Greensleeves was my heart of gold  
And who but Lady Greensleeves..."

When they were done, Snape gave Lupin a courtly bow of his own, then lifted his lover's hand to his lips and gently kissed Lupin's fingertips. Lupin smiled at him, his face slightly flushed--from the dancing, perhaps, although Snape was hoping it was more than that...

"Would you like another dance, Severus?" Lupin asked.

"Yes, I would," Snape said, but stopped Lupin when he reached for the music box. "Ah...actually, I had a different kind of dance in mind."

"Oh?" Lupin asked, tilting his head slightly as he smiled up at Snape. There was a dreamy look in his eyes, and he was looking just a little more flushed...

Snape leaned over and purred softly into Lupin's ear, "A horizontal dance, no music required. Or rather...we can make our own music."

Lupin slipped his arm through Snape's and followed him to the bedroom. "Why Severus," he murmured. "You can be quite charming when you put your mind to it..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The version of "Greensleeves" that I had in mind for the Christmas scene is by Blackmore's Night, from the album "Shadow of the Moon." And yes, the leader of the band, legendary guitarist Ritchie Blackmore (formerly of Deep Purple and Rainbow), was the inspiration for Professor Blackmore. I thought his name sounded vaguely mysterious and sinister, so I chose it for the Professor, although I made her a woman because I thought there weren't enough female characters in the story.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dylan is torn between new friendships and his old dream of revenge, while Snape clashes with Moody.

Dylan was more popular than ever after the Yule Ball: the girls wanted to flirt with him, and the boys wanted to know how he'd gotten an "older woman" to ask him out. Draco might have started to get jealous again, but he was distracted when Rita Skeeter's story about Hagrid's half-giant heritage came out in the Daily Prophet, and was too busy gloating and taunting Potter to worry about Dylan. Dylan, who had spent his entire life suffering for his father's crimes, might have had some sympathy for the Care of Magical Creatures instructor except that Hagrid had been one of those who watched him suspiciously, as if he expected Dylan to summon up Lord Voldemort at any moment. And Draco told Dylan that he had heard from his father that Hagrid had made a comment about "bad blood" during the hearing on Dylan's admission to Hogwarts. Dylan believed him, recalling how Snape had mentioned the same phrase when they were discussing the way the rest of the world viewed the Slytherins, but he wondered how Lucius Malfoy had known about it when he had not attended the hearing himself. Well, the head of the Malfoy family was a very powerful man, who probably still had some allies among the school governors, or perhaps Professor Snape had told him what was said during the meeting. In any case, Dylan privately thought that Hagrid was a hypocrite, and felt no pity for him. _How dare he turn up his nose at me because of my father, when his own mother was a giant!_ And besides, like most of his classmates, Dylan was tired of being burned, bitten, and scratched by Hagrid's little pets.

Hermione felt sorry for the stupid oaf, though, and Dylan decided to take advantage of the situation to score some points with her, although he knew that ingratiating himself with a Gryffindor girl that Draco Malfoy hated was probably the last thing he should be doing. But he wasn't going to let Draco run his life, and both his mother and Professor Snape seemed to think that making some "respectable" friends would help offset his father's reputation and lessen people's suspicions of him. A very small corner of Dylan's mind worried about what would happen when Voldemort rose again, as he surely would--a Mudblood girl had no place in the glorious future the Dark Lord had planned. But he pushed his worries aside; all that lay ahead in a distant and nebulous future. For now, he was simply a schoolboy who wanted to win the favor of a pretty girl. Hermione, of course, did not remain the lovely vision she had been the night of the Ball, but he found himself looking at her in a different light. It was nothing serious of course, he hastily told himself. But he liked her feisty spirit, and he did have his father's reputation with the ladies to live up to, after all...

He found her sitting alone in the library one day, looking worried. After checking to make sure there were no other Slytherins nearby, Dylan went to her table and took the seat across from her. "Hello, Hermione," he said. "It's really awful, what that woman wrote about Hagrid, isn't it? I hope he comes back to school soon." He was lying through his teeth, of course, but felt he managed to inject the proper tone of concern into his voice.

Hermione just frowned at him. "I thought you'd be laughing about it with your buddies Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle," she said coldly. "They fed that Skeeter woman a pack of malicious lies about Hagrid!"

"I can't control what Malfoy does," Dylan protested, letting a slightly wounded expression appear on his face. "I'm not like him! Don't you think that I, of all people, know how it feels to have everyone hate you because of who your mother or father was?"

Hermione's expression softened a little, but she looked confused. "Well...that is true. But then why are you so friendly with Draco and his crowd, and why are you wearing that button?" She pointed accusingly at the "POTTER STINKS" button discreetly hidden beneath the folds of his robe--but not discreetly enough, apparently.

Dylan hung his head, as if in shame. "You don't know what it's like in Slytherin House, Hermione," he said softly. "It's not like Gryffindor. Draco lords it over everyone--his father is a very powerful man, you know, both magically and politically. And I'm no one; just the son of a deceased Death Eater. My great uncle and Professor Snape fought very hard to have me admitted, but a lot of people still don't want me here, and if I make one wrong move I could be expelled. If Draco complains to his father about me, all Lucius Malfoy has to do is say one word to the right person and I'll be kicked out of school before you can blink. I've lived in exile my entire life, and I never had a friend before I came to Hogwarts. There are very few children on the family estate, and none of their parents would let them play with the son of a Death Eater. Bad blood, that's what they say. Maybe I'm a coward, but I would do almost anything to stay at Hogwarts and not be sent back home."

"Oh, Dylan," Hermione said sadly, looking at him much more sympathetically now. "I never thought about how hard it must be for you. Well, I do think it's important to stand up for what you believe, but I can see how you're in a difficult situation."

"Well, it's not so bad," Dylan said in a lighter tone. "I just have to be careful not to offend Malfoy. I admire you, Hermione, for being so brave. You always do what you think is right, and you don't worry about what anyone else thinks of you." She flushed with pleasure, and he gave her a charming and mischievous grin. "The fact that I'm trying to be friends with you should prove to you that I'm telling the truth--Malfoy would kill me if he knew I was associating with the enemy!" Hermione giggled a little. "He doesn't like Gryffindors to begin with, and he really hates your friend Harry Potter. I must admit, though, that Potter's been all right to me. He hasn't called me names like some of the other students have." It was true, and Dylan figured he could score a few more points by saying something nice about her friend.

"Other students have called you names? Gryffindors?" Hermione asked, sounding outraged.

Dylan smiled, pleased to have her on his side now. "Yes, but it's no big deal--"

"What kind of names?!"

"Oh, the usual...Death Eater, devil's spawn, and a few other things that I wouldn't care to repeat in mixed company. But I'm used to it, since my grandmother and my uncles have called me all those things and worse."

"That's awful!" said Hermione, still looking upset. "Tell me who they were, and I'll give them a piece of my mind--"

"Oh, don't bother; it'll just make things worse, and it won't change how they feel. I'll just have to prove to people through my actions that I'm not a Death Eater like my father." _At least, not yet..._ "There are a lot of stupid people in the world, Hermione. Look at the things they say about the Muggle-born, look at the things they're saying about Hagrid..."

"That's why it's so important to stand up for what's right!" Hermione said passionately. "That's why I've organized S.P.E.W!" She smiled at Dylan. "I guess that proves that you're not like Malfoy, since you bought a S.P.E.W. membership. But you haven't come to any of the meetings!"

"I'm sorry," Dylan said apologetically. "It's hard to get away sometimes; Malfoy keeps a close eye on me. And I didn't think that your friend Ron was too keen on me."

"Don't worry about Ron," Hermione said firmly, and Dylan grinned to himself. There was no doubt in his mind that Ron Weasley was no match for Hermione Granger! "Well, we can discuss it now, I suppose, since you're here and Malfoy isn't around."

She spent the next hour waxing eloquent on the subject of elf rights. Dylan didn't mind; he liked the passion in her voice and on her face, and all he had to do was nod and murmur in agreement every now and then. He even offered to broach the subject with his Great-Uncle Math, and was rewarded with a grateful smile. He figured it wouldn't do any harm; Uncle Math was definitely no friend to Lucius Malfoy, so he didn't have to worry about word getting back to Draco, and Uncle Math was softhearted--he might actually be sympathetic to Hermione's cause. Besides, it would reassure Math and Goewin to know that he had made friends with a Muggle-born girl, and they would worry less about him following in his father's footsteps, which meant they might watch him a little less closely and give him more freedom...

*** 

Things seemed to be going well for Dylan: Malfoy was preoccupied with his vendetta against Potter and his friends and was paying less attention to Dylan, he was in Hermione 's good graces, and Professor Snape seemed to be in a much better mood after Christmas. Dylan wasn't quite sure why; he certainly hadn't seemed to be enjoying himself at the Ball. Perhaps he'd gotten a truly spectacular Christmas gift, or--more likely--he was just happy that the holidays were over. Whatever the reason, Snape was in a good enough mood to talk to Dylan about his father again. As usual, he avoided any mention of the Dark Lord or their Death Eater days, but he did reminisce about some of the pranks Dylan's father had played along with his friend Lyall Wilkes.

"They were best friends, nearly inseparable--except, of course, when your father was pursuing some young lady," Snape said in an almost genial tone of voice. "They got into a great deal of trouble together."

"Such as?" Dylan asked eagerly.

"Let's see...there was the usual nonsense--setting off dungbombs during class, that sort of thing. But most of their pranks were more imaginative than that. During their second year, around Christmas, they built anatomically correct snowmen--or rather a snowman and a snow-woman--in the castle courtyard. That earned them a week's detention. The next year they sent a box of chocolates with a note that said 'from your secret admirer' to a boy in Gryffindor on Valentine's Day. The boy was quite conceited and fell for the trick, but of course the chocolates had a little Swelling Solution mixed into them, and he swelled up like a balloon." Snape grinned wickedly. Although he didn't mention it to Dylan, he had helped Rosier and Wilkes make those chocolates--they had made the candy from scratch in their dorm room, using Snape's talent in Potions to blend the Solution into the melted chocolate. It had been a lot of work, but it had been worth it when he saw James Potter's body ballooned out to match his swollen head! And best of all-- "They served no detention for that prank; they never got caught...although their victim suspected who was involved, he had no proof."

Dylan laughed. "What else?"

"Well, Mr. Filch was at Hogwarts back then as well, and he had a cat then, too--not Mrs. Norris, of course, but a predecessor. Evan and Lyall cast a hex that made all the cat's fur fall out. If it had been up to Mr. Filch, they would have been expelled for that stunt. The Headmaster overruled him, and they simply got detention, but Headmaster or no, I think the only thing that saved their lives was that Madam Pomfrey had a tonic that grew the cat's hair back. Another time they were rather upset about Gryffindor winning the Quidditch Cup over Slytherin, and decided to sneak into Professor McGonagall's office and steal it back. Not their brightest idea--they got caught in the act. Or rather, Evan managed to get away, and Lyall got caught. But Lyall never gave your father up; he insisted he had been alone, even though all the teachers knew that he and Evan did everything together, and McGonagall threatened him with expulsion." _Lyall was always loyal to a fault,_ Snape thought, and remembering how his loyalty had led him to join the Death Eaters with Evan, Snape's good mood began to fade.

"But he didn't get expelled?"

"No, in the end, he just got a month's detention, again thanks to the Headmaster." Snape thought perhaps Dylan was enjoying these stories about his father just a little too much, and decided to give the boy a warning. "By the way, Mr. Rosier, it will go very hard against you if you attempt to emulate any of your father's little adventures. Assuming you aren't expelled, I will have you in detention every day until the last day of your seventh year, and I will put an end to our little talks about the good old days. Is that clear, Mr. Rosier?"

"Very clear, sir." Snape's second threat was the one that really intimidated Dylan. Snape was the only person other than Ariane who was willing and able to discuss Evan Rosier with Dylan, and he would do anything not to lose that link to his father's past. "I haven't forgotten the debt I owe you, Professor, and I remember very well that I am only here on sufferance."

"Good," said Snape, relaxing slightly. "This is your first year at Hogwarts, and you are under a great deal of scrutiny, but your behavior so far has been exemplary. Your teachers--well, most of them--have noticed that, and I think things will get easier for you in the next year or two, once they realize that..." He hesitated.

"That I'm not like my father," Dylan said softly.

"Well, yes," Snape admitted, a little uncomfortably. "Once you have proven yourself, you can relax a little and not have to worry about being expelled for the slightest thing." Then in his more usual cold, haughty tone, he said, "But I will still expect you to behave in a manner that does not bring disgrace upon this House."

Dylan smiled a little. "Yes, sir. Thank you for your time, Professor."

Once again, the boy seemed to know when Snape was ready to conclude their conversation, and prepared to leave. But Snape found himself calling out to the boy as he rose from his seat and headed for the door. "Oh, and Dylan?"

Dylan looked back, startled. "Yes, Professor?"

Snape hesitated again. "You are like your father in some ways...you look a great deal like him, and you have his determination. And in other ways, you are quite different, but that is not a bad thing. Evan was my classmate and friend, but he was...ah...impulsive and reckless at times, and that got him into trouble." _It got him killed,_ Snape thought darkly. "You work hard at your studies, you think before you speak, and you have kept your temper and stayed out of trouble despite the insults certain students and teachers have spoken both to your face and behind your back. You even volunteered for extra work," Snape said, recalling the time Dylan had volunteered to help him with the healing potion, and smiled slightly as he continued in a dry voice, "which is something your father never did, I assure you!" Dylan laughed, and Snape said in a more serious voice, "I am...pleased with your progress, Mr. Rosier."

Dylan stopped laughing and stared at Snape in shock. _Did Professor Snape just give me a compliment?!_ Apparently so, because Snape himself was looking a little surprised and embarrassed at what he had just said. It took a couple of tries before Dylan's voice would work and was able to stammer, "Th--thank you, sir!"

Snape cleared his throat and said gruffly, "Well, that's all Rosier--run along now, I've got a lot of work to do."

Dylan ran out of the office, still in shock, but feeling oddly euphoric. Cold, dour Professor Snape, who never said anything nice about anyone, was pleased with his progress! When Dylan had first arrived at Hogwarts, he knew that, as his mother said, Snape was someone he had to treat with respect and win over as an ally, but somehow it had become something more. Dylan couldn't put his finger on it, exactly; he couldn't really say he liked Snape, who was still curt and sour most of the time, but he had come to respect him in truth, and wanted to win his respect in return. And of course he was grateful that Snape continued to talk to him about his father. It was odd, Dylan thought, that winning the friendship of a Muggle-born Gryffindor girl and a rare compliment from the feared and hated Potions Master should make him so happy. That small, logical corner of Dylan's mind began to fret again, as it watched his two worlds being set on a collision course--his old, secret childhood dream of taking up his father's cause and avenging his death, and his new life at Hogwarts with friends and allies he had not expected. Sooner or later, they would clash, and he would have to decide which path to take. _But not today,_ thought Dylan, and once again he ruthlessly quashed his worries. He was in too good a mood to think about such things today, and anyway, there was plenty of time to sort things out later...

*** 

Snape was asleep, blissfully dreaming about Lupin. In his dream, Lupin was still teaching at Hogwarts, and Snape had just come to his office with the Wolfsbane Potion. Lupin was wearing the blue robe Snape had given him for Christmas; he undid the clasp at his throat and let it fall open, revealing that he was wearing absolutely nothing underneath it. He held his arms out invitingly, and Snape dropped the potion and reached for him...

Just then a loud commotion jolted Snape awake. Cursing to himself, he jumped out of bed and went to see who had dared to interrupt to his sleep, in such haste and fury that he didn't even bother to throw a robe on over his nightshirt. He passed by his office, and found it had been broken into. Then he heard a noise coming from the stairs that led out of the dungeon, and he ran in that direction, hoping to catch the culprit. To his surprise, he found Filch and his mangy cat on the staircase.

"Filch?" Snape snarled. "What's going on?"

"It's Peeves, Professor," Filch whispered malevolently. "He threw this egg down the stairs."

Snape quickly climbed up the stairs and took a look at the egg. "Peeves?" he asked softly, staring at the golden object in Filch's hands. "But Peeves couldn't get into my office..."

"This egg was in your office, Professor?"

"Of course not!" Snape snapped. "I heard banging and wailing--"

"Yes, Professor, that was the egg--"

"--I was coming to investigate--"

"--Peeves threw it, Professor--"

"--and when I passed my office, I saw the torches were lit and a cupboard door was ajar! Somebody has been searching it!"

"But Peeves couldn't--"

"I know he couldn't, Filch!" Snape said impatiently. "I seal my office with a spell none but a wizard could break!" He looked up the stairs and back down the corridor. "I want you to come help me search for the intruder, Filch."

Filch reluctantly followed, still babbling about Peeves and how he was going to get him thrown out of the castle.

"Filch, I don't give a damn about that wretched poltergeist; it's my office that--" Snape broke off his sentence abruptly as he heard a loud clunking noise behind him. He and Filch both turned around.

"Pajama party, is it?" growled Mad-Eye Moody from the foot of the staircase. He was wearing a cloak over his nightshirt, and leaning on his staff as usual.

"Professor Snape and I heard noises, Professor," Filch said. "Peeves the Poltergeist, throwing things around as usual--and then Professor Snape discovered that someone had broken into his off--"

"Shut up!" hissed Snape. He did not want Moody prying into his business, did not want Moody snooping around his office.

Moody's blue eye rolled around in his face, then settled on Snape suspiciously. "Did I hear that correctly, Snape? Someone broke into your office?"

"It is unimportant," said Snape coldly.

"On the contrary, it is very important. Who'd want to break into your office?"

"A student, I daresay." Snape could feel a vein throbbing on his temple, and felt a headache coming on. _Damn it all, why didn't I just stay in bed? Maybe if I'd gone back to sleep right away, I could have started dreaming about Lupin again..._ "It has happened before. Potion ingredients have gone missing from my private store cupboard...students attempting illicit mixtures, no doubt..."

"Reckon they were after potion ingredients, eh?" Moody asked skeptically. "Not hiding anything in your office, are you?"

Snape felt his face turn red. "You know I'm hiding nothing, Moody," he said in a soft and dangerous voice, "as you've searched my office pretty thoroughly yourself." 

He was still feeling resentful about that; Dumbledore had asked him to let Moody do his search. "Just humor him, Severus," the Headmaster had said in a placating tone. "To set his mind at ease. We both know he'll find nothing, and then he'll leave you alone." Fat lot of good that had done!

Moody gave him a smile that was more of a sneer. "Auror's privilege, Snape. Dumbledore told me to keep an eye--"

Now that was going too far! "Dumbledore happens to trust me," Snape said through clenched teeth. "I refuse to believe that he gave you orders to search my office!" Surely the Headmaster would not have betrayed him that way...would he?

"Course Dumbledore trusts you," growled Moody. "He's a trusting man, isn't he? Believes in second chances. But me--I say there are spots that don't come off, Snape. Spots that never come off, d'you know what I mean?"

Snape opened his mouth to make a retort, but just then an intense, burning pain flared up in his left arm where the Dark Mark was branded. He bit back a cry of pain, and involuntarily seized his forearm with his right hand.

Moody laughed tauntingly. "Get back to bed, Snape."

Furious with himself for showing weakness in front of Moody, Snape forced himself to let go of his arm. "You don't have the authority to send me anywhere!" Snape hissed. "I have as much right to prowl this school after dark as you do!"

"Prowl away," Moody said in a menacing voice. "I look forward to meeting you in a dark corridor some time...you've dropped something, by the way..."

Snape's eyes widened in comprehension as he recognized the Marauder's Map lying on the staircase. He reached for it, but Moody summoned the map to his hand. "My mistake. It's mine--must've dropped it earlier."

Snape's eyes darted back and forth from the egg to the map, and suddenly he realized what must have happened. "Potter," he said quietly.

"What's that?" Moody asked calmly, folding up the map and pocketing it.

"Potter!" snarled Snape, staring down the staircase, trying to figure out where Potter was hiding. "That egg is Potter's egg. That piece of parchment belongs to Potter. I have seen it before, I recognize it! Potter is here! Potter, in his Invisibility Cloak!" _Damn that Lupin, I thought he confiscated that map! He must've given it back to the boy! Or maybe it was the Headmaster--Lupin didn't have the cloak; I left it behind in the Shrieking Shack. Dumbledore must have retrieved it and given it back to the brat!_ Snape stretched out his hands and slowly moved down the stairs, trying to find the boy by touch.

"There's nothing there!" barked Moody. "But I'll be happy to tell the Headmaster how quickly your mind jumped to Potter!"

"Meaning what?" growled Snape, his hands still outstretched, searching for Potter.

"Meaning that Dumbledore's very interested to know who's got it in for that boy! And so am I, Snape...very interested..." Moody leaned forward, a threatening look on his ugly, mangled face, which looked even more sinister in the flickering torchlight.

Snape stared at Moody, suddenly recalling the warning he had given Draco: "The man is not entirely sane..." He had killed Snape's friends Rosier and Wilkes and shown not one ounce of regret. Snape had no doubt that Moody would love to add Snape's name to the list of deceased Death Eaters, and there were no witnesses here other than Filch and Mrs. Norris...not to mention that Snape had stupidly forgotten to grab his wand when he had left his room. He could cast minor spells without his wand, but all the powerful ones--the spells one might use to defend against an Auror's attack--required a wand. And Snape was sure that Moody had not made the mistake of forgetting his own wand... After a long moment, Snape slowly lowered his hands. "I merely thought," Snape said, forcing his voice to remain calm, "that if Potter were wandering around after hours again...it's an unfortunate habit of his...he should be stopped. For--for his own safety."

"Ah, I see," Moody said softly. "Got Potter's best interests at heart, have you?"

Snape stared at Moody for another moment, then said curtly, "I think I will go back to bed."

"Best idea you've had all night," said Moody. "Now, Filch, if you'll just give me the egg--"

Snape brushed past them and went back to his quarters, ignoring Filch's protests. He clenched his fists and felt his stomach churn. Moody had just humiliated him, and Snape had been powerless to stop him. To make things worse, Potter had probably been watching. What Snape hated above all else was feeling helpless; that was why he had hated his parents, especially his father, who had held the power of life and death over him, who had been able to inflict the Cruciatus Curse as punishment on a child too weak to fight back. That was part of why he had hated Potter, Black, and Pettigrew--Snape had been strong enough to hold his own against them one-on-one, but a couple of times they had ganged up on him and caught him by surprise, disarmed him of his wand and rendered him helpless, then humiliated him in front of the other students. All in the name of fun and games, of course. And that was why he had hated Lupin as a teenager, even though he had loved him at the same time. He had hated Lupin for making him feel things he didn't understand, hated Lupin for making him lose control of his emotions, hated Lupin for making Snape fall in love with him... Snape sighed, his mind returning to the present. Love was such a contradictory thing--on one hand, being in love made Snape feel helpless, yet at the same time, Lupin's love gave him strength and support.

Snape rubbed the Mark on his arm, which was still burning, although the pain was less intense now. He had joined the Death Eaters hoping to gain enough power to keep his enemies--be they parents, classmates, or lovers--at bay; enough power to never be at anyone's mercy ever again. But he had found himself in thrall more than he had ever been before--this time to Lord Voldemort, who even forced his minions to call him "Master". He thought he had won his freedom at the end of the war, but the newly dark and painful Mark on his arm proved that he would never truly be free again until Voldemort was dead.

*** 

About a week later, Snape caught Potter and his two cohorts talking during class.

"Well, I was too busy seeing whether you and Harry were okay to--" Hermione Granger was saying.

"Fascinating though your social life undoubtedly is, Miss Granger," Snape said in an icy voice, "I must ask you not to discuss it in my class. Ten points from Gryffindor. Ah...reading magazines under the table as well?" He snatched up the copy of Witch Weekly they had been looking at. "A further ten points from Gryffindor...oh but of course...Potter has to keep up with his press cuttings..." The Slytherin students laughed, and Snape felt his lips curving in a malicious smile. Ah, revenge was sweet... He began to read from the magazine: "'Harry Potter's Secret Heartache'...dear, dear, Potter, what's ailing you now? 'A boy like no other, perhaps...'" He continued to read the article as only he could, in his dry and sarcastic voice, pausing every now and then for dramatic effect and to allow the Slytherins a hearty laugh; not even they would dare to interrupt Snape while he was speaking. He took a sadistic pleasure in seeing Potter's angry and embarrassed face, and noticed that Miss Granger's face had turned scarlet.

 _Petty, Snape, very petty,_ the little voice in his head scolded him in a disapproving tone. _Cowardly too; you never got your revenge on James Potter, so now you're taking it out on his son. And bad enough that you're picking on Potter, but now you've included Miss Granger in your little vendetta, who hasn't done anything wrong but choose the wrong friends--_

 _Oh, shut up!_ Snape silently snarled. _When did you turn into such a little prig?_ Maybe he was developing a split personality; he wondered if crazy people recognized the moment at which they started to go mad...then again, his inner voice had always had a perverse sense of humor; it had always told him the opposite of what he wanted to hear. When Lupin had befriended him back in school, the voice kept warning Snape not to trust him. Then, after Lupin had apparently betrayed him and Snape broke off their relationship, the voice kept telling him that maybe he was being unfair to Lupin. No doubt if Snape started being nice to Potter and his friends--hah!--the voice would tell him not to pamper the treacherous little brats. _Make up your mind, why don't you?_ he sourly asked the voice, who responded only with indignant silence. Then Snape thought, _Dammit, I've got to stop talking to myself!_ and continued reading.

"'...Harry Potter's well-wishers must hope that, next time, he bestows his heart upon a worthier candidate.' How very touching. Well, I think I had better separate the three of you, so you can keep your minds on your potions rather than your tangled love lives. Weasley, you stay here. Miss Granger, over there beside Miss Parkinson. Potter--that table in front of my desk." The playful sneer in his voice disappeared and he snapped in his usual no-nonsense, commanding tone of voice, "Move. Now!"

Potter grabbed his things and threw them down on his new desk. The boy vented his frustrations on his scarab beetles, mashing them enthusiastically, no doubt imagining that they were his Potions teacher. Snape leaned over and whispered, "All this attention seems to have inflated your already over-large head, Potter." He almost hoped the boy would talk back to him, so he could take more points off Gryffindor and give Potter detention, but for once, he wisely chose to remain silent. "You might be laboring under the delusion that the entire wizarding world is impressed with you," Snape continued quietly, "but I don't care how many times your picture appears in the papers. To me, Potter, you are nothing but a nasty little boy who considers the rules to be beneath him." The boy's hands began to shake slightly, but still he said nothing, and Snape said in an even softer and more dangerous voice, "So I give you fair warning, Potter, pint-sized celebrity or not--if I catch you breaking into my office one more time--"

"I haven't been anywhere near your office!" Potter protested.

"Don't lie to me!" Snape hissed, glaring at the boy. "Boomslang skin. Gillyweed. Both come from my private stores, and I know who stole them."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Potter said coldly.

"You were out of bed the night my office was broken into," Snape hissed. "I know it, Potter! Mad-Eye Moody might have joined your fan club, but I will not tolerate your behavior! One more nighttime stroll into my office, Potter, and you will pay!"

"Right," said the boy coolly. "I'll bear that in mind if I ever get the urge to go in there."

Snape's eyes flashed with anger. He restrained an impulse to slap the boy, and reached into his robes and pulled out a small crystal bottle. "Do you know what this is, Potter?"

"No."

"It is Veritaserum--a Truth Potion so powerful that three drops would have you spilling your innermost secrets for this entire class to hear," Snape said viciously. "Now, the use of this potion is controlled by very strict Ministry guidelines. But unless you watch your step, you might find that my hand slips right over your evening pumpkin juice. And then, Potter...then we'll find out whether you've been in my office or not." Snape knew that unauthorized use of the potion would probably get him fired--but Potter didn't know that, and maybe it would serve to keep him in his place. The boy said nothing, but turned pale and shuddered, so hopefully his threat had worked. 

There was a knock at the dungeon door, and Snape said, "Enter," in a curt voice.

Karkaroff walked in, nervously twisting his finger around his goatee. "We need to talk," he said softly, barely opening his lips.

 _You damn fool!_ Snape thought furiously. _If you're so worried about people overhearing you, then don't show up when I'm in the middle of teaching a class!_ "I'll talk to you after my lesson, Karkaroff," he said aloud.

"I want to talk to you now, while you can't slip off, Severus. You've been avoiding me."

"After the lesson," Snape snapped. Karkaroff fell silent, but refused to leave, hovering behind Snape's desk for the rest of the period, which was extremely annoying. "What's so urgent?" he hissed, when the bell finally rang and the students left.

"This," said Karkaroff, pulling up the sleeve of his robe to show Snape the Mark on his arm.

"Put it away!" snarled Snape, his black eyes sweeping the classroom--and he suddenly noticed that Potter had lingered behind.

"But you must have noticed--"

"We can talk later, Karkaroff!" Snape spat. "Potter! What are you doing?"

"Clearing up my armadillo bile, Professor," the boy said in an innocent voice.

"Well, hurry up and get out of here!"

Karkaroff turned on his heel and left the room, and Potter hastily fled as well, no doubt frightened off by the murderous look on Snape's face.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Triwizard Tournament comes to a dramatic end, and Dylan begins to question his desire to join the Death Eaters.

Dylan heard from Draco and his cronies about how Professor Snape had humiliated Hermione and Potter during Potions class. Dylan pretended to laugh along with them, of course, but inside he was angry. Angry at Draco, because he knew Malfoy was feeding gossip and outright lies to Rita Skeeter, and angry at his favorite teacher for treating his friend unfairly. His grudge against Potter was one thing, but he shouldn't take it out on Hermione, who was by all accounts, a model student. He found himself glaring at Snape one day in Potions class without being aware of it until Snape frowned and said, "Is something wrong, Mr. Rosier?" He spoke in that cold voice he always used, but the expression on his face was more puzzled than angry.

"No, sir!" Dylan said, hastily rearranging his features into a polite mask once again. _Damn it,_ he thought, _that was careless! I can't afford to let my control slip like that again!_ "I was just...um...having a bit of trouble with my potion." He looked down and saw that his little white lie was in fact the truth; distracted by thoughts of Hermione, he must have done something wrong because the concoction in his cauldron was starting to bubble and boil ominously, and he was pretty sure it wasn't supposed to be doing that.

"You put in too much newt's blood," Snape scolded. "I told you, just a dash is all that's required. Pay attention, next time! It's not like you to be so careless, Rosier."

"I'm sorry, sir," said Dylan, trying to look sufficiently chastened, which didn't really require much acting.

Snape gave a suspicious look and said curtly, "Well, throw it out and start over again. And make sure you do it properly this time!"

"Yes, Professor." 

Dylan hauled his cauldron to the sink at the back of the classroom and poured the mess down the drain. When he returned, his partner Damien leaned over and whispered, "Are you awake? It's not like you to make mistakes in Potions class. Or any other class, for that matter."

"I was just distracted," mumbled Dylan.

"Ah," Damien said, smiling slyly. "Daydreaming about some girl, eh? Who is it? That Ravenclaw girl?"

Snape was looking in their direction, and the two boys quickly fell silent and made a show of working very hard on their potions. Dylan felt relieved; apparently Damien hadn't noticed him glaring at Snape, and merely thought he was mooning over some girl. Which he had been, come to think of it... When their teacher had wandered off to the other side of the room to berate a Gryffindor student, Dylan whispered back to his friend, "Lisa's nice, but it's nothing serious." He grinned impishly. "I'm too young to settle down."

Damien snickered. "You're a real ladies' man, Rosier! Just like your father, so I hear..."

Dylan nearly dropped the vial of newt's blood in the cauldron, which would have ruined his second batch of potion. He carefully set it down on his desk, then asked, "You know about my father?!"

Damien was about to reply, but saw Snape looking their way again. "After class," he whispered. 

 

After the bell rang, Dylan dragged Damien off down a side corridor. He took a quick look around to make sure no one was within earshot, then demanded, "What do you know about my father?"

"Take it easy, mate," said Damien. "It's not much. My mother was at Hogwarts around the same time; she was a year ahead of him. She just mentioned how handsome he was and how all the girls chased after him and Lucius Malfoy. Apparently they were the two studs of Hogwarts at the time. Not just Slytherins, either--plenty of girls from the other Houses were interested in them." Damien grinned. "Just like you--like father, like son, I guess!"

Dylan relaxed a little. "Did she say anything else?"

Damien shrugged. "Not really. Just that he and his friend Wilkes used to get into a lot of trouble together. And that they used to hang around with Draco's dad and Professor Snape. It's tough to picture Snape being a kid, huh?" Damien laughed. "You're lucky he seems to like you, Dylan. Anyone else would have gotten detention and zero marks. Well, except maybe Malfoy; everyone knows how much influence Draco's father has over Snape and Slytherin House."

"Your mum...she wasn't part of Lucius Malfoy's crowd?" Dylan asked hesitantly. There were a lot of things he would like to ask Damien, but he didn't know if it was safe to.

"Not really. We're purebloods, of course, but my family's not really wealthy and hoity-toity enough to be in tight with the likes of the Malfoys. My mother was sort of friendly with Narcissa Malfoy, Draco's mum, when they were in school, but they didn't really stay in touch after they graduated. They send each other Christmas cards and run into each other at parties or school events a few times a year, but that's about it."

"Your family...they weren't..." Dylan hesitated, remembering how Snape had reacted when he had said the words "Death Eaters" aloud. "...They weren't followers of You-Know-Who, were they...?"

"Um...no." Damien looked around nervously, then said in a hushed voice, "They agreed with some of his ideas...in principle. But they never actually joined up. Good thing, it turns out." Then he looked a little abashed, recalling that things had not turned out so well for Dylan's father. "They thought your father got a raw deal. I mean, plenty of others got off easy--" He looked around again, and lowered his voice to a barely audible whisper. "Like the Malfoys." In a more normal voice he asked, "Does your mother ever talk about him? Your dad, I mean..."

Dylan remembered how Ariane had warned him to trust no one, not even those who appeared to be his friends, and lied, "Not really. She gets all sad and weepy, so I don't ask."

"That's too bad," said Damien, looking uncomfortable. Then he changed the subject and said, "Well, we should hurry or we'll be late for dinner." 

Dylan agreed, and they headed for the Great Hall. In unspoken agreement, the boys turned their conversation to less dangerous topics. "If you'd like to double-date the next time we go to Hogsmeade, maybe I could see if Lisa has a friend," Dylan joked. "You did say you were interested in older women..."

 

At dinner, Dylan noticed Snape glaring at Potter as if he were a particularly loathsome type of vermin. And considering the creatures Snape had floating in the glass jars in his office, a specimen would have to be pretty loathsome for the Potions Master to turn his nose up at it. He wondered why Snape hated Harry Potter so much. His mother had told him it was because Harry's father and Snape had been rivals at school, but surely there must be more to it than that? Ariane had been a little vague on what the rivalry had been about--Quidditch and grades, mostly, she had seemed to think. But could those things really inspire a hatred that lasted for twenty years? She had also said that Potter senior's gang and Snape's gang used to cast hexes and curses on one another, but that Snape had given as good as he'd got, for the most part. But then, Ariane had been a Ravenclaw, and had not paid much attention to Gryffindor or Slytherin until she was partnered with Evan Rosier in Incantations class during their fifth year. _Or maybe it has nothing to do with James Potter,_ Dylan thought in a sudden flash of insight. _Maybe he hates Harry because Harry Potter vanquished the Dark Lord!_ In which case, Snape really was a loyal Death Eater after all... Dylan wished he could ask Snape, but he wasn't stupid enough to try; at best Snape would just tell him it was none of his business, and at worst...well, Dylan had no intention of spending the rest of his life as a toad...

*** 

Snape stood in the Headmaster's office; he pulled up his sleeve, revealing the Dark Mark on his left forearm. "It's coming back," he said. "Karkaroff's too...stronger and clearer than ever. I felt it burn, just before the second task. He's near, Albus. I don't know where or how, but he's close by, I can feel it..."

Dumbledore sighed wearily, and Snape pulled his sleeve back down. "I would have believed you, Severus, even without seeing the Mark; all the signs are pointing towards it. Perhaps Alastor is right; perhaps he intends to manipulate the Tournament somehow to get to Harry." He thought about telling Snape that it was obvious that Sirius's story about Wormtail must be true, but then decided against it. He suspected that Severus already knew that, and just didn't want to admit it. He didn't really think the Potions Master would have reconciled with Lupin if he believed that the werewolf had helped a minion of the Dark Lord. Dumbledore smiled slightly; at least Snape HAD reconciled with Lupin--that was a sign that he was maturing a little, finally. He had learned forgiveness; Dumbledore recalled all too well how Snape had refused to forgive Lupin's "betrayal" nineteen years ago. Perhaps one day he would even be able to forgive himself...

Meanwhile, Snape was saying, "Karkaroff is very nervous. And well he should be; he betrayed many of his fellow Death Eaters to the Ministry. I think he will run, sooner or later. Probably sooner."

"And you, Severus?" Dumbledore asked softly. "Are you afraid?"

Snape glared at him. "Only a fool wouldn't be. But don't worry, I'm not going to run. There would be no point to it anyway; if the Dark Lord has truly returned, there is nowhere I could hide where I would be safe from him. Karkaroff is a fool to think he can outrun death."

"And what does Lucius Malfoy think?"

"He is excited, yet nervous. He still dreams of the Dark Wizards dominating the world as the Dark Lord had planned, but at the same time, he fears the return of his Master. For all the Death Eaters, save those still in Azkaban, renounced their Lord and claimed to be repentant or under the influence of the Imperius Curse. They fear he might punish them for being unfaithful." Snape spoke in a cold, indifferent voice, as if the matters he was speaking of had nothing to do with him, but Dumbledore could see a faint gleam of fear deep in his black eyes.

"We must be vigilant, Severus," said the Headmaster. "We must guard Harry carefully, and watch for any sign of trouble."

"It might be easier to guard him," Snape said sourly, "if he didn't go wandering off and breaking into my office after hours."

"Ah yes, Alastor told me about that incident. But do you really think it was Harry who broke into your office?"

"Who else could it be?" Snape asked impatiently. "Where do you think he got the gillyweed he used in the Tournament? It's not the sort of thing you can just pick up in Hogsmeade."

"Hmm," Dumbledore said, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "Perhaps a teacher gave it to him, or perhaps he special-ordered it from an apothecary or potions shop in Diagon Alley. He does have sufficient funds, and he could have had it owled to him..." Snape snorted disbelievingly. "There's really no reason for him to steal, Severus. He could have just asked for it; I would have authorized you to give it to him."

"Ordered, you mean," Snape said sourly, and the Headmaster just smiled at him, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon glasses.

"What about the boomslang skin, Severus?" Dumbledore asked. "Harry had no reason to take that, and he clearly didn't use it in the Tournament."

Snape scowled. "How should I know why he took it? He's planning some other escapade, no doubt. Maybe he wants to brew a Polyjuice Potion; imagine the trouble he could get into if he could take the shape of another student, or God forbid, a teacher..."

"Honestly, Severus, that potion takes about a month to brew...how could he have kept it hidden for that long? And you've told me over and over again how incompetent Harry is at Potions; do you really think he could successfully brew such a complicated potion?"

"Well, no," muttered Snape. "But Miss Granger could--"

"I can't picture Hermione breaking the rules that way," said Dumbledore.

Neither could Snape, to be honest, but Potter could have talked her into it...especially if any of the rumors in Witch Weekly were true, but clearly there was no point in arguing about it with the Headmaster, who had already made up his mind.

"Please watch over Harry, as you always do, Severus," Dumbledore said gently. Snape grunted in response; the Headmaster assumed that passed for assent. "Oh...and Severus?"

"What?" barked out Snape, none too politely.

Dumbledore ignored his tone of voice and said, "Please be vigilant for your own sake as well. I am worried about your safety as well as Harry's."

The anger drained out of Snape's face and he flushed slightly. "It doesn't matter," he said in a cold voice. "My life has been forfeit ever since the day I first came to you and betrayed my Lord. I don't want to die, but I have accepted the risk. Only..." Snape hesitated.

"Only what, Severus?" Dumbledore asked patiently.

Snape looked down and mumbled, "If...if anything happens to me, you'll look after Lupin, won't you?"

"Of course, Severus," Dumbledore said gently, "but I'm sure that won't be necessary--"

Snape looked up and glared at him. "Don't patronize me, Albus! There's a very good chance that we'll all be dead in the next few years! Just remember your promise to look after Lupin!" And with that, he turned on his heel, his robes making a soft swishing noise as they swirled around him dramatically, and he stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

 

As Snape emerged from the hidden staircase that led to the Headmaster's office, he saw Potter running down the corridor. "POTTER!" he shouted. The boy skidded to a halt. "What are you doing here, Potter?" 

The boy started babbling some nonsense Snape couldn't understand about Crouch turning up in the forest. "What is this rubbish?" Snape asked impatiently. "What are you talking about?"

"Mr. Crouch!" Potter shouted. "From the Ministry! He's ill or something--he's in the forest, he wants to see Dumbledore! Just give me the password up to--"

"The Headmaster is busy, Potter," Snape said, smiling nastily. Thwarting Potter gave him so much pleasure...

"I've got to tell Dumbledore!"

"Didn't you hear me, Potter?" Snape was enjoying himself thoroughly. He would go check out Potter's outrageous claim, but he wanted to make him squirm a little first. And if the boy was making up a wild story to get attention, he would take fifty--no, a hundred--points off Gryffindor.

"Look," Potter protested angrily, "Crouch isn't right--he's--he's out of his mind--he says he wants to warn--"

The stone wall behind Snape slid open and the Headmaster emerged. "Is there a problem?" he asked.

"Professor!" Potter said. "Mr. Crouch is here--he's down in the forest, he wants to speak to you!"

Without even stopping to question the boy, Dumbledore said, "Lead the way," and they hurried off as Snape glared at them.

*** 

Snape watched the last task from the stands with Dumbledore. Certain areas of the maze were not visible from where they were sitting, but Dumbledore seemed troubled by what was happening. Fleur Delacour fell early on, stunned by--something. And Viktor Krum attacked--attacked?!--Diggory, but Potter stunned him. Diggory and Potter defeated the last obstacle, a giant spider, together. And together they grasped hold of the Triwizard Cup. And for an instant, Snape wondered if he had been mistaken about Potter after all--surely James Potter would never have shared his moment of triumph with anyone, particularly not a boy from another House. But he had no time to think about it, because in the next instant, both Potter and Diggory were gone, vanishing in a howling whirlwind.

Pandemonium erupted. Snape and Dumbledore were kept busy trying to calm people down and organize a search party, although Snape was certain that the boys were no longer on the school grounds. It was a pity that Sybill Trelawney had no real talent; they certainly could have used a seer to scry out the boys' location; Snape wondered if Miyako Kamiyama might be interested in a job when she graduated from school in Japan... Meanwhile, Mad-Eye Moody kept shouting about conspiracies and saying, "I told you so!" until Snape wanted to hit him with an Imperius Curse to make him shut up. Then suddenly, an intense burning pain--worse than any he'd ever felt before--erupted in his left arm. He cried out and fell to his knees, clutching at the place on his arm where the Dark Mark was branded. 

Dumbledore said, "Severus!" and helped him to his feet, leading him away from the crowds. _Moody must really be gloating now,_ Snape thought, but was in too much pain to care. "Severus, are you all right?" The Headmaster asked anxiously.

"The Mark," Snape gasped. "It's burning!" He pulled up his sleeve and showed his arm to Dumbledore; the skull-and-snake tattoo was jet black, and the skin around it looked red and inflamed, as if the Mark were literally burning the flesh on his arm. He pulled the sleeve back down and said, "It's him; he's calling us to him, calling his Death Eaters...should I go? He must have Potter and Diggory with him." 

"No," said Dumbledore. 

"But the children--"

"I can't have you walking in there blindly, Severus," Dumbledore said. "You are a formidable mage, but you are no match for Voldemort and perhaps a dozen or more Death Eaters. Your strength has always been your ability to move quietly behind the scenes, but you will not be able to carry off a direct attack." Snape started to protest, but Dumbledore cut him off. "I would allow you to risk your cover, and even your life, if I believed you really had a chance to rescue the boys, but I don't think you do. All you would accomplish would be to get yourself killed as well."

Secretly Snape felt a little relieved, but this wasn't helping them get the children back. "Then what are we supposed to do?" he asked. "Just sit and wait?"

"I don't suppose you can pinpoint his location?"

Snape shook his head. Normally, a wizard could not Apparate to a place he hadn't seen before, but the Mark allowed the Death Eaters to Apparate blindly to wherever Voldemort was. "No, the Mark summons us to him, but we have no idea where we're Apparating to." Then he happened to look up and spot Karkaroff fleeing the Quidditch field. "Damn that coward!" Snape snarled. He'd suspected long ago that Karkaroff would run, but the Durmstrang Headmaster provided a convenient target for Snape's ire. Snape started to go after Karkaroff, but Dumbledore stopped him.

"No," said Dumbledore. "Let him go; I doubt you'll be able to catch up with him, and we have more important things to worry about now."

"He'll be dead inside a month, I'd bet a year's salary on it," Snape muttered.

 

There was nothing they could do but try and keep the chaos under control, which was made more difficult by the frantic blusterings of Cornelius Fudge; the Minister of Magic was running around like a chicken without a head. Then as suddenly as they had vanished, Potter, Diggory, and the Triwizard Cup appeared at the edge of the maze. 

Someone began shouting that Diggory was dead, and Snape was busy trying to keep the crowd back. But out of the corner of his eye, he saw Moody leading Potter away while Dumbledore was trying to break the news to Diggory's parents. He didn't think anything of it, but as soon as Dumbledore finished talking to the Diggorys, he called Snape and McGonagall over to him.

"I've been blind," he said grimly. "It was Moody all along."

"What?!" Snape and McGonagall chorused as they hurried after Dumbledore; the old wizard was pretty spry for someone who was at least a hundred and fifty years old. 

"Moody's been trying to kill Potter?" Snape asked incredulously. He couldn't believe it; Moody had been an Auror dedicated to wiping out the Death Eaters. Moody might be insane, but Snape couldn't imagine him going over to the Dark Lord.

"Moody just took Harry Potter away against my explicit orders," Dumbledore said. "I think I understand what's happened now..." He didn't, however, bother to enlighten Snape or McGonagall. They ran after Dumbledore, following him to Moody's office. The Headmaster raised his wand and pointed it at the office door, shouting, "STUPEFY!" The door was blasted apart into splinters. They walked into the room to find Moody unconscious on the floor, and Potter slumped in a chair, looking barely able to move, but he had managed to draw his wand halfway out of his robes. McGonagall tried to take the boy to the hospital wing, but Dumbledore stopped her, saying that the boy needed to understand what had happened to him.

"Moody," Potter said, still in a state of disbelief; for once, Snape could sympathize--he was still having trouble believing it himself. "How can it have been Moody?"

"This is not Alastor Moody," Dumbledore said quietly. "You have never known Alastor Moody. The real Moody would not have removed you from my sight after what happened tonight. The moment he took you, I knew--and I followed." He bent down over Moody's limp form, and reached inside Moody's robes and pulled out his hip flask and a set of keys on a ring. Then he looked up and said, "Severus, please fetch me the strongest Truth Potion you possess, and then go down into the kitchens and bring up the house-elf called Winky. Minerva, kindly go down to Hagrid's house, where you will find a large black dog sitting in the pumpkin patch. Take the dog up to my office, tell him I will be with him shortly, then come back here."

Snape had no idea what Dumbledore was up to, but he knew this was not the time to question him, and did as he was bid, returning with the potion and the elf. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the body lying on the floor. "Crouch!" he exclaimed. "Barty Crouch!"

"Good heavens," said McGonagall as she spotted Crouch, nearly running into Snape as she came up behind him. 

The house elf started screaming, and threw herself across Crouch's chest, alternately crying out, "Master Barty!" and "You is killed him! You is killed Master's son!"

"He is simply stunned, Winky," Dumbledore said calmly. "Step aside, please. Severus, you have the potion?" Snape handed him the small bottle of Veritaserum, and the Headmaster poured three drops into Crouch's mouth. Then he pointed his wand at the man's chest and said, "Ennervate." He ordered Crouch to tell them what had happened, and Crouch spilled out his story in an expressionless voice, telling them how his mother had persuaded his father to smuggle him out of Azkaban, how his father had kept him imprisoned at home under the Imperius Curse, how he had eventually been able to fight off the curse. Voldemort had come for him, having learned of his existence from Bertha Jorkins, and placed Crouch senior under the Imperius Curse, allowing the younger Crouch to assume his identity. Crouch droned on about how he had captured and impersonated Moody--it was he who had stolen the boomslang skin for the Polyjuice Potion, not Potter. Crouch senior escaped, and his son killed him. He had manipulated the Tournament, putting Potter's name into the Goblet, and it was he who had stunned Delacour and controlled Krum in the maze during the last task. It was he who had turned the Triwizard Cup into a Portkey that would transport Potter into Voldemort's hands.

Snape stood there in stunned silence until Dumbledore asked him to send Madam Pomfrey to the office to tend to the real Alastor Moody, who had been locked up in his own trunk the entire time, and to find Cornelius Fudge and bring him to the office to question Crouch. But when Fudge found out they had caught a Death Eater, he insisted on summoning a Dementor into the castle, over Snape's and McGonagall's objections. The Dementor swooped down on Crouch before they could stop it and sucked his soul out of his body, leaving behind a mindless husk. Snape went pale and his legs nearly buckled beneath him; he had never seen a Dementor's Kiss before, and he shuddered to think that he had once threatened Lupin with it, that terrible night when Sirius Black had returned and he had thought Lupin had betrayed him. He had not really intended to give Lupin to the Dementors, and had only been trying to scare him, but he now realized he might not have been able to prevent the Dementors from attacking Lupin--he'd had no idea they could move so fast. Snape was not a religious man, but he said fervently, over and over, to whatever deity might be listening, _Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!_ If he had condemned Lupin to Crouch's fate, he could not have lived with himself. Having seen it up close, it was a fate he would not wish on his worst enemy, not even Sirius Black. Maybe.

But McGonagall was furious, and so was Dumbledore when he found out what had happened, after they sought him out in the hospital wing.

"But he cannot now give testimony, Cornelius," Dumbledore said, staring hard at Fudge as though seeing him plainly for the first time. "He cannot give evidence as to why he killed those people."

"Why he killed them? Well, that's no mystery is it?" blustered Fudge. "He was a raving lunatic! From what Minerva and Severus have told me, he seems to have thought he was doing it all on You-Know-Who's instructions!"

"Lord Voldemort WAS giving him instructions, Cornelius," Dumbledore said. "These people's deaths were mere by-products of a plan to restore Voldemort to full strength again. The plan succeeded. Voldemort has been restored to his body."

Fudge kept blustering, refusing to believe that Voldemort had returned, refusing to believe their testimony or Potter's. Snape knew the boy could be a liar at times, but this time he knew Potter was telling the truth, as much as he would have preferred to believe it was a lie. And then Snape realized that Fudge was at heart a coward. He had summoned the Dementor because he was afraid to face Crouch alone--or maybe subconsciously he had wanted to erase evidence he didn't want to believe in. Fudge did not want to believe Voldemort had returned, wanted to remain wrapped in a cocoon of denial, preferring to cling to the illusion of his safe, comfortable, ordered world. But that illusion would get him--and more importantly, countless innocents--killed. 

"He can't be back, Dumbledore, he just can't be..." Fudge said in a pleading voice.

Snape strode forward, pulling up the left sleeve of his robe as he went, then stuck out his arm and showed to Fudge, who recoiled in horror. "There," said Snape harshly. "There. The Dark Mark. It is not as clear as it was an hour or two ago, when it burned black, but you can still see it. Every Death Eater had the sign burned into him by the Dark Lord. It was a means of distinguishing one another, and his means of summoning us to him. When he touched the Mark of any Death Eater, we were to Disapparate, and Apparate, instantly, at his side. This Mark has been growing clearer all year. Karkaroff's too. Why do you think Karkaroff fled tonight? We both felt the Mark burn. We both knew he had returned. Karkaroff fears the Dark Lord's vengeance. He betrayed too many of his fellow Death Eaters to be sure of a welcome back into the fold."

Fudge stepped back, shaking his head, refusing to believe what Snape had said, refusing to believe in the Mark right in front of his eyes. He stared at Snape's arm for a moment, then turned to Dumbledore and whispered, "I don't know what you and your staff are playing at, Dumbledore, but I have heard enough. I have no more to add. I will be in touch with you tomorrow, Dumbledore, to discuss the running of this school. I must return to the Ministry." Then he left, pausing only to give Potter his Tournament winnings, a bag filled with gold Galleons. 

Dumbledore sent the various visitors and staff members from the hospital wing until only he, Snape, Molly and Ron Weasley, Granger, Potter, and a large black dog were left in the room. Snape wondered where the dog had come from; a pet belonging to the Weasleys, perhaps?

He did not have to wonder long. "And now," said Dumbledore, "it is time for two of our number to recognize each other for what they are. Sirius...if you could resume your usual form." The dog looked up at Dumbledore, than transformed into a man.

Mrs. Weasley jumped back, screaming, "Sirius Black!"

"Mum, shut up!" yelled Ron Weasley. "It's okay!"

Snape just stared at Black in mingled fury and horror. "Him!" he snarled. "What is he doing here?"

"He is here at my invitation," said Dumbledore, looking first at Snape, and then at Black. "As are you, Severus. I trust you both. It is time for you to lay aside your old differences, and trust each other."

Snape stared at Black with utmost loathing, and Black stared back at him with a nearly identical expression on his face.

"I will settle, in the short term," Dumbledore said impatiently, "for a lack of open hostility. You will shake hands. You are on the same side now. Time is short, and unless the few of us who know the truth do not stand united, there is no hope for any of us." It was clear from his tone of voice that he would not take "no" for an answer.

Very slowly, still glaring at Black the entire time, Snape took a step forward, and so did Black. They reached out and shook hands, letting go as quickly as possible. Black wiped his hand on his robe, as if trying to wipe something slimy off his hand. Snape felt the same impulse, but managed to restrain himself.

"That will do to be going on with," Dumbledore said, stepping between them; apparently he didn't expect the truce to hold too far. "Now I have work for each of you. Fudge's attitude, though not unexpected, changes everything. Sirius, I need you to set off at once. You are to alert Remus Lupin, Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher--the old crowd. Lie low at Lupin's for awhile; I will contact you there."

"But--" Potter protested, clearly not wanting Black to leave. 

Snape did not want Black to leave, either, but for different reasons. _It's not fair!_ the little voice in his head wailed, apparently having lost its Lupin-like composure. _Why does HE get to stay with Lupin when I can't?!_ He was torn up with jealousy, and clenched his fists together to keep from grabbing his wand and blasting Black right where he stood.

Meanwhile, Black finished saying goodbye to Potter. _How touching,_ Snape's inner voice sneered, and he was happy to hear that it sounded like its old, familiar, sarcastic self, and no longer resembled a certain high-minded werewolf. Then Black transformed back into a dog and left the room.

"Severus," Dumbledore said, turning to Snape, "you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready...if you are prepared..."

"I am," said Snape. He felt a jolt of fear run through his body, but at the same time he felt a sense of relief. All those years of waiting had been an incredible strain--at last it was beginning, the final war...

"Then good luck," Dumbledore said quietly, and Snape swept out of the room, leaving to contact Lucius Malfoy and arrange his re-entry into the ranks of the Death Eaters.

*** 

The whole school was frightened and shaken by Cedric Diggory's death--or most of the school, anyway. Most of the Slytherins were as frightened as the rest of the students, but a few--Malfoy's inner circle--laughed and whispered together in a gloating manner. Malfoy pulled Dylan aside one day, and spoke to him in private.

"Diggory was just the first," Malfoy whispered triumphantly. "The Dark Lord has returned, Rosier, and he'll go after the Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers next!" 

Dylan felt an odd sensation run up and down his spine--excitement mixed with fear. He had dreamed of this moment, but had never imagined it would come so soon--or that it would happen in the manner it did. It was one thing, to talk of exterminating Muggles and Mudbloods, but it was another to see Cedric's lifeless body lying on the ground. _And what about Hermione?_ whispered a small voice in his head. _What will happen to her, now that the Dark Lord has returned?_ The feeling of fear increased, but did not entirely cancel out the excitement. "Wasn't Diggory a pureblood?" Dylan asked softly.

"He got in the way," Malfoy said dismissively. "That will be a lesson to everyone who opposes the Dark Lord!" He gave Dylan a suspicious look. "You're not going soft on me, are you, Rosier? You're one of us; you're going to live up to your dad's name, aren't you?"

"Of course," said Dylan firmly. He wasn't entirely sure if that were true, but he sensed it would be dangerous to reply in any other way.

"Good!" said Malfoy, heartily clapping him on the back. "My dad says we're too young to be inducted into the Death Eaters yet." Malfoy made a face, clearly not agreeing with his father, but Dylan felt a profound sense of relief that he wouldn't yet have to make his choice. "But soon, Rosier, soon..." Malfoy smiled proudly and said, "My father is helping to pave the way; the Malfoys will rank high in the Dark Lord's organization. " He added in a slightly patronizing tone, "And your dad died in the Dark Lord's service, so I'm sure he'll reward you with a high rank too, once you prove yourself. By the way, my dad said to invite you over to our house this summer. I'm sure we could have a lot of fun together, Rosier." Draco smiled, a look of dark satisfaction in his pale gray eyes.

Rosier didn't know whether to feel tempted or afraid. No doubt he could learn much about the Death Eaters if he stayed at the Malfoys', and perhaps even learn some things about the Dark Arts that Ariane had not been able to teach him, but his mother hated Lucius Malfoy with a passion and trusted him not at all. And besides, it was Dylan's grandmother and great-uncle who controlled his fate, for the most part. "That sounds great, Draco," Dylan said, "but I don't know if I'll be able to come. My grandmother is the head of the Donner family, and she absolutely hates me. She never trusted my father, and she doesn't trust me. I don't think she'll let me leave the estate this summer; I was lucky to be able to get into Hogwarts at all."

Malfoy looked a little annoyed. "Well, once we're in power, you can put the old hag in her place," he said vindictively, and Dylan felt another surge of excitement. If he joined the Death Eaters, he might be able to gain enough power to cast down his grandmother and uncles. He wouldn't kill them, at least not right away...he would make them bow down and grovel at Ariane's feet first, in penance for all the years they had mistreated her. 

_But what about Uncle Math and Aunt Goewin?_ that little voice in his head whispered. Uncle Math had fought against Voldemort in the first war; he would never just stand by and let the Dark Lord take over. No doubt he would fight again in the coming war...that thought burst Dylan's little fantasy bubble. Could he face his beloved Great-Uncle on the battlefield? But he didn't want Math and Goewin to die...if only they would come to their senses, if only they would ally themselves with the Dark Lord...

But was that what Dylan really wanted? If the Dark Lord had his way, Hermione would be killed. _Maybe,_ Dylan thought desperately, _maybe if I work hard and serve him loyally, maybe if I perform some great task for him, he'll spare her life and let me keep her..._ But keep her as what? His little pet Mudblood girlfriend? With despair he realized that Hermione would be too stubborn and proud to accept the Dark Lord's mercy, even if by some miracle, he offered it. She always stood up for what she believed in, and never backed down... Dylan felt so confused; he didn't know what to do. But the school year was almost over, and he would be going home soon. _I'll talk to Mother,_ he thought with relief. _She'll know what to do!_

*** 

Snape sat at the staff table on the night of the Leaving Feast. The mood was somber; the Hall was hung with black drapes instead of the usual House colors, in honor of Cedric Diggory. He caught Potter staring at him, and looked back at the boy for a moment, brooding silently. Was Lupin right? Had he misjudged the Potter boy? He had shown real bravery the night of Voldemort's return...but Snape didn't know if he could ever bring himself to actually like James Potter's son. Then he shrugged slightly and looked away. It didn't matter; Potter was their only hope of salvation, whether Snape liked it or not.

The Headmaster gave his speech; first making a toast to Diggory, and all the students and teachers stood and raised their goblets in tribute. Then he told the students the truth about what had happened to Diggory and how the Dark Lord had returned, saying it would be an insult to Cedric to hide the truth. He told them that Potter had faced down the Dark Lord and risked his life to bring Diggory's body back home, and asked the assembled crowd to toast Potter. Nearly everyone did so, but Snape could see, from the corner of his eye, that some of the Slytherins did not. Draco and some of his friends defiantly remained seated and left their goblets untouched. Snape saw Dylan stand, then notice that Malfoy had not followed suit. Dylan stopped in the act of raising his goblet, as if unsure what to do. He held his goblet chest-high, looking at Malfoy nervously, then sat when everyone else did. The Headmaster, who apparently hadn't noticed, spoke of the need to stand united, and told the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students that they would be welcomed back at any time. He finished his speech with: "Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory."

All in all, a very touching speech; even Snape was moved by it. He only hoped that Dylan Rosier had been paying attention to it as well.

Snape sighed with relief when dinner was finally over, and headed to his quarters to begin packing. Whatever else might come, whatever else he might have to face, at least he could spend some time with Lupin this summer, and perhaps they could comfort each other and chase away their demons, if only for a little while.

**Author's Note:**

> The Donners are very loosely based on characters from Welsh legends in The Mabinogion--specifically, from the fourth branch of the story about Math ap Mathonwy, who was the wizard king of Gwynedd. The basic summary is: Math was under a kind of geas, in which he had to rest his feet in the lap of a virgin, except in times of war. Math's nephew Gilfaethwy was infatuated with the current virgin footrest, Goewin, and his brother Gwydion conspired to help Gilfaethwy rape her. Math married Goewin to restore her honor, and punished his nephews by turning them into beasts for three years. Gwydion and Gilfaethwy's sister Arianrhod aspired to become Math's next footholder, but failed a magical test of virginity, which resulted in her giving birth to two sons: Dylan and Lleu Llaw Gyffes. Aside from Goewin's rape, I didn't really follow the plot of the original story: in the Mabinogion, Arianrhod is not a loving mother, but rejects both her sons after her lack of virginity is so humiliatingly exposed, and Dylan plays only a very minor role in the tale; the main focus is on Lleu. I chose not to include Lleu in my version since it would have complicated things to have two Rosier sons, and also because Gwydion loved Lleu and raised him like a son, while I needed Dylan to be rejected by his mother's family for the purpose of the story. Although in hindsight, it might have been interesting to have some sibling rivalry, with one nephew who was favored and one who was rejected.
> 
> However, the story and characters did provide the seed of inspiration for my twist on canon. I changed the names slightly to fit in better with the modern setting: Math became Mathias (though nicknamed "Uncle Math"), Gilfaethwy became Gilbert, and Arianrhod became Ariane. Arianrhod, Gwydion, and Gilfaethwy were the children of the goddess Don, so their surname in my fic became Donner. (Ariane's brothers don't appear in this story and are only alluded to, but play a more major role in the sequels.) I got the idea for the ill-fated romance between Ariane and Evan Rosier from Evan's entry on the Harry Potter Lexicon, which said that the name may have originated from "Rosier," a demon of seduction. So it amused me to think of Evan as a ladies' man, and the side plot grew there.


End file.
